Enforced Heroics
by TheZorker
Summary: When the exobytes fall, heroes and villains rise. Some from desire, others by necessity.
1. Chapter 1

My name was Rachel.

I said was.

In the future, the world was destroyed.

How are you supposed to conjugate a future past tense?

I was recruited – drafted – to fight against Brainiac.

Against the machine that is attempting to ensure the future remains unchanged.

This is my story.

I've lied about parts of it. Don't complain to me that the geography is off. This is intentional. There are people I know, people I love, that I don't want to see hurt.

At least I didn't put parking lots around Wrigley.

I knew there were people with powers and technology beyond anything I understood, or even was expected to understand. Supers, they were called. Whatever the power, whatever the source, they were forces to be reckoned with. Some fought for personal gains and were labeled villains by the greater non super society. Others fought against them because it was the right thing to do. They got called heroes.

Even I, out in the sleepy 'burbs of Chicago, had heard of the big ones – Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Lantern, Batman. Gotham City wasn't even that far from here, just a straight shot north up the interstate. That is, close enough that Joker was considered just local enough to be worried about, but not quite close enough that one had to constantly look over their shoulder.

Supers in my everyday life, though? Not so much. Most we would ever get is the occasional interview from Vicki Vale in Gotham; or Lois Lane from Metropolis from Daily Planet Online.

It all changed one January afternoon.

I worked, most evenings and weekends at a little restaurant known as the Noodle Bar. During the day, I attended the local junior college – the College of Lake County. I had been taking classes with an eye toward being a graphical artist.

It was cold, and there was a light snow coming. This being the upper midwest, we were used to snow. We would complain about it, of course, but in the end it would take a real blizzard to shut us down.

I was coming back in from the local grocery store, walking to my apartment when it stung me. At the time, I wasn't even sure what it was. It left a nasty red welt the size you wouldn't believe. I looked around for the wasp (in a Midwest January?) and unsurprisingly couldn't find it. I did see the two bright shiny pieces of metal near my feet and pocketed them.

Let me pause a moment, and talk about exobytes. I know you've heard of them. They were small piece of metal, no bigger than the old film canisters, each one held a digital version of an alternate Earth meta. They were released over the atmosphere of the world. This doesn't sound like much, I suppose, but it meant that everyone who came into contact with those exobytes were granted the powers – transformed really – into the hero or villain they contained, only the mind remained intact.

From the reports on the news, you may have thought it was instant. It wasn't, quite. I think it took about ten, maybe fifteen minutes before it began. Once it started, though, the change itself took no more than thirty seconds.

It was painful. Excruciatingly painful. I felt my body stretch and contort, grow and change. I thought I heard screaming. No, that was me screaming.

When it was over, I was on the floor gasping for breath. I didn't even remember falling on my hands and knees. My eyes watered down my fur-lined face.

The hell?

I pulled my fingers up to my face, and the shocks continued. My fingers hadn't changed that much, they were always a bit on the stubby side. They were, as well, covered with with fur of a light orange color.

My breath caught.

I rose to my feet, stumbling briefly, my body felt tighter, more agile. I was completely unused to it. I stumbled over to the bathroom, almost tripping twice over my own feet.

The shock I was feeling came to a crescendo and I fainted. Not perhaps, what you might expect of a Super, but like I said, I hadn't had much experience in the world of heroes.

When I woke up, I had a bit of a headache, I think I had hit my head on the sink. I stared back up at the mirror, my yellow eyes staring back at me.

Let me repeat that. My yellow eyes.

Unbidden, said yellow eyes scanned the rest of my body, seeing what I all ready knew. I was covered with an orange fur, matted with black stripes. A tiger.

I looked like a freak. A freaking tiger. Both, really.

I know what you're thinking. The first one of you that makes some reference to the scientific improbability of this, I'm going to find. Then I'm going to smite you. As I understand the concept, it will be self defense.

It didn't take me much more staring to realize I was unclothed. Perhaps not as obvious at first, given that I didn't have as much bare skin as I would have a few minutes ago, but still somewhat distressing. With my new height (I think I grew a good six inches), I didn't even have anything that would fit.

With this distressing thought, I collapsed into the chair in the main room of my apartment and covered up with a blanket. My tactile sense prickled a bit, and I automatically shifted a bit. I winced as I realized I had, quite literally, just rubbed my fur the wrong way.

Hell's Bells. (Have I mentioned I'm an avid reader?)

Something else was bothering me, but I couldn't place the sensation. After a few minutes of staring at the TV, I eventually realized it wasn't on. I corrected the problem, flipping on a local station. If I had been in shock before, I was mesmerized now. I wasn't the only person to have this sudden metamorphosis come over them. All over the city were reports of people who had undergone, well, not dissimilar transformations.

Most of the ones shown on camera looked like they'd stayed human, on the big side of humanity perhaps, but nothing as inhuman as I looked.

On the other hand: "The chaos continues on the roadways, one of these newly empowered supers has managed to bring traffic to a halt by someone managing to fling a tree onto the Northbound lanes near Route 60. Surprisingly, there was no real injuries."

I was pretty sure I hadn't lost my intelligence like that. Drunk adolescents perhaps?

The newscast continued. "The Fifth Third bank," the next story began, and I instinctively face palmed. "was the site of an attempted robbery today."

Naturally.

"...by one of the new supers with some sort of telekinetic powers. He was stopped by a young man who was able to shoot some sort of concentrated flame. While he successfully knocked out the aspiring thief, he also manged to set the bank on fire. Seven were treated for minor smoke inhalation and released, two others have been hospitalized in serious condition with first degree burns. One woman, moving to clear a child out of the firing line, is listed as in critical condition with second degree burns."

She should have been the one who got superpowers, I sighed. Not me. Not them.

"And finally," went the newscast, "There's the story of the young lady who jumped from the balcony of the upper level of Northbrook Mall, saying that she could fly. No, she didn't fall to ground. She really could fly. She was so excited about what she was doing, however, she failed to see she was approaching the opposite railing, and crashed headlong into it. She broke it, and collapsed on the second level. She's been treated for a mild head trauma and released."

Yeah. I suppose I should be glad that she didn't hurt anyone but herself. Still.

"It's been less chaotic in Chicago proper," I was told. "As experienced heroes have managed to keep anyone from hurting themselves too badly. Please tune in at 7:00 PM for a message from the Justice League of America to the world, regarding these new developments."

So I wasn't the only one who's life had suddenly changed. With the number of people all ready doing crazy things, it sounded like other people had gotten their powers earlier in the day than I had. Or, I thought, looking at the clock. It was almost half past five. I think I'd stared longer at that blank screen than I realized.

I stood and about fell over again. I finally realized what had bothering me. I had a tail.

A. Tail.

My day was just getting better and better.

Once I realized I had the tail, balance became much easier. Or at least I realized what was throwing me off. I considered taking a shower. Then I considered the idea of damp cat fur. All around me. I sighed. I was going to stink either way, I supposed, and I'd rather temporarily stink of damp fur then never take a shower again. This fur wasn't that thick.

My blow dryer was getting a work out once I got out. The wet fur matted against my skin, and was very uncomfortable. It was when I was making dinner that I noticed another to change to my body. It started simple, dropping a piece of silverware. My reflexes had improved so much, that instead of needing to pick it up the floor, I batted it clear under the fridge. In frustration, I lifted the fridge in frustration, and was shocked when it came up easily into the air.

I should have expected that, shouldn't I?

This new body was going to take some getting used to.

I gently put the fridge back down, not seeing anything obviously unplugged. If I had managed the same trick with the freezer, I'm sure I would have snapped the water line. That would've been a mess. I managed dinner without further incident.

There was still about half an hour before the broadcast was scheduled, and gritting my teeth, I returned to the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror, to look past the fur.

I wasn't just taller, I was all around bigger and more muscular.

I'll answer the obvious questions: Yes, I flexed, and stared at the true force of feline power in display in the mirror. No, I didn't do anything stupid to test my strength, even if I'd heard a feline's muscle was much denser than a humans.

What had I become?

At seven o'clock, every TV, every radio simulcasted the same announcement:

"My name is Superman," his voice was the same confident tone it always had been. "In the past few days, an alien machine has launched an attack against the major cities of Earth. Brainiac stated goal is the complete assimilation of Earth's technology and people into his databanks. Anything he deems unneeded is destroyed. We slowed his advance, halted it for a time, but we could not reverse it."

"We needed reinforcements, and we got them. Lex Luthor, from a future where Brainiac had won, found a way to steal back the powers of those Brainiac had captured, from our worlds and beyond. He released them, giving rise to a new generation of people who, with courage, could fight Brainiac's tyranny."

"Many of the people so changed, especially in cities where his invasion had all ready begun, Brainiac recaptured immediately. Combined forces of major heroes, and even some you might think of as villains, united against a common foe. Brainiac prisoners were freed in Gotham, Metropolis, Keystone City, among others. These people have been taken to the medical wing within the Watchtower, and Star Labs, for treatment as needed."

"In these days, the Earth needs new heroes. We know not all with these new powers will uphold themselves in manner in a just and lawful way. The Justice League stands ready to help you learn to control your powers. For those of you who have the courage, we can help you become heroes."

I wasn't ready for that. Not that I had any powers that needed to be controlled. It turned out, I wasn't done learning, both about my new powers, but about enemies I didn't even know I had.

I never thought Luthor's lackeys would come after me. As Jack Ryder would say: I was wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

Hero or no hero, feline or no feline, I wasn't going to be able to go able anywhere without some sort of clothes. Yes, the fur did a reasonable job of keeping myself covered. It was even warm, once I got used to it. People however, were not used to seeing certain things exposed.

It could have been worse, I suppose. Cats usually had litters, and female cats could feed the entire litter. At the same time.

Eeew.

OK, so I didn't have that problem, Still needed something to cover up, and nothing I had was able to fit that bill. After the change, I was simply bigger.

Proportionally.

I've seen artist renditions of people like Wonder Woman and Supergirl. They don't look anything like that. Trust me. I've seen them in real life.

Creeps.

Granted, I was all thumbs when sewing, even before my change. However, not being a hermit, I knew a friend that may be able to help.

I also did not want to become a hermit, someone was going to have to see the new me eventually. So I made a call to a friend of mine named Sheri. While my hobbies were everything involving computers and stories, she was into costuming. She even took part in some of those reenactor festivals they had, where people dressed up in period clothing.

She, however, was not at home; nor was she answering her cell phone. Unfortunate. I left a message and tried to think. I did not yet have a plan B. Going out in public wasn't an option, and I was uncomfortable with the idea of trying to get a professional seamstress to do a house call.

Instead, I doodled at the computer a bit, hoping inspiration would strike. A score of about 1.2 million in Bejeweled 3's Lightning round struck, a score I was pleased with; but no real ideas. It was when I was contemplating another round that I instinctively froze, turned, and stared at the phone.

I had no idea why.

About two full seconds later, it rang. I about tipped the chair I was sitting on all the way over. I approached the phone cautiously. I had known it was going to ring.

How had I known that?

This whole cat thing was going to take a lot of getting used to.

"Rachel," I answered.

"Its Sheri," came the voice on the other line. "I got your message. What's up?"

How the hell do I explain this to her?

"Have you seen the news today?" I asked.

"About all the new supers?" she responded, "of course I have."

I swallowed, audibly, as it turned out. " I need uh, a costume." I put unnecessary emphasis on the last word.

There was a pause. An unreasonably long pause. "You... it happened to you too? Are you planning on doing something crazy?"

"No. Trust me. But..." I cast around for the proper verb. "I've changed, and I've literally nothing to wear. I need something, just to go out in." That was lame.

There was another pause. "All right, I can come over early tomorrow, bring my tools with me," Sheri said.

"And fabric, trust me. Bring some kind of fabric. Ten-ish?"

"Ten-ish," she agreed, her voice unnecessarily sweet. "I'll see you then."

Awesome. My best friend thinks I've gone crazy.

There wasn't much else I could do that night. After messing around on the computer a bit longer, I went to sleep. At least, I tried to. I wasn't restless, so to speak, but I had a hard time getting comfortable. Damnable fur.

When I did eventually drop off, I had dreams. Nightmares, really. I awoke twice, trying to hold onto the images around me. I wasn't sure what I saw, though I don't believe it looked like Earth, at least, no part of Earth I was familiar with.

When day finally broke, I was tense, both from the nightmares and that someone was coming over. I made some breakfast, and set to cleaning up the apartment. I eschewed the shower, as I wasn't ready to go through that again just yet.

A little before ten, I picked up the phone, realized it hadn't actually rung yet, and put it down again. I swallowed, put it down. About five minutes later, I resisted the urge to pick it up again. Again, about two seconds later it rang, then I picked it up.

"Hey, Rachel," came Sheri's voice. I greeted her. "Who were you talking to?" she asked, "I got a busy signal."

"Uhm," I stammered, "No one, I'll buzz you in."

I made sure the door was unlocked, then sat on my couch, covering myself with a blanket.

After a few minutes, I could hear someone at the door, then the knock came. This always kind of irritated me. I know you're there. I just buzzed you in. "It's open!" I called.

"I could use a hand!" Sheri called.

Oh.

I stood, wincing a bit as the blanket hit the ground, and moved over to the door. I opened, carefully, to stay out of the line of sight arc of the hall way.

Sheri entered the room, making for the kitchen area. She dumping a bag and sent a box down gently on my dining table. She must have realized she hadn't seen me, and turned around. Then her jaw dropped.

"Hi Sheri," I said.

Sheri could only stammer something incomprehensible.

"It's the hair, isn't it?" I waited. I could feel it coming.

"You look like... like," she started.

Here it comes!

"a Thundercat!" she said, and her tension gave way to a nervous giggle.

I merely sighed and sat down at the table. "Anyone else you want to compare me to?"

"Felicia!"

Great. Now I'm a Darkstalker. "Done?" I asked. Sourly.

"For the moment," she said, relaxed now.

"I appreciate it." I gave her the brief run down on what happened twelve hours ago, and that I needed some sort of clothing to go out in. I had to replace a wardrobe, and I wasn't going to eat take out for the rest of my life.

With what Sheri had on hand, a sports top was easy enough to make. The bottom part was a little more interesting, due to the tail. It was under conscious control. When I focused on it, I could directed as needed. It seemed to behave more or less autonomously otherwise, but it did make wearing pants a problem.

In the end, it was worked around by creating, ahem, a "sports bottom" that went just under it. It was mildly uncomfortable, and not exactly form fitting, but it did the job. I kept it on with a belt.

The entire ensemble was covered by a large cloak, bright sunshine yellow. It was the only thing Sheri had enough of. It'd make people stare, I supposed. The "Look at the weirdo in the weird clothes" stare seemed to be an improvement over the "My god what is that?" stare.

It was about half past one when we finished. This was important, as I was supposed to work at the Noodle Bar at five. This left plenty of time to get to the local mall and try to find some real clothes.

Sheri drove. I tried to look inconspicuous in the passenger seat. As much as a six foot woman covered with a yellow cloak could be inconspicuous. At least the person at the drive thru waited until we were past before doing anything audible.

The department store was reasonably crowded – the weather had held off mostly, and the mall was full of people getting the necessities they needed. As expected, whenever I walked by, people giggled and pointed, until they caught side of my head. Then they gasped.

We made a bee line for the dressing room before we could I could be cited for disturbing the peace. Or another child could look at me and yell "Kitty". One was enough, thanks.

Trying to find anything that would cover fur and muscular arms was a bit of an adventure, but one that was eventually solved. Tank tops could work around the problem, of course, but Sheri was able to find a few puffy sleeved blouses and loose fitting shirts.

Pants were less of a problem, until it came to the damnable tail. It became apparent that nothing would cover both tail and legs with any ease. The tail wanted to stick outward, so covering it with a dress wasn't an option. In the end, I was left with some low cut skirts and pants. Rachel said she'd work on the problem, maybe she could come up with a solution.

"After all," she joked, "Now I have a real life Superhero to design for. I feel like Edna Mode. No capes!"

I sighed.

The lady who rung me up was a professional, at least. She raised her eyebrows when she saw me, but didn't ask any questions, didn't make any jokes. She just took my credit card, advised about their own card (as I'm sure they're required to do), took off the security tags, and put my myriad purchases into a bag.

After another ego suffering trip back to the parking lot, we returned to my apartment. Rachel dropped me off. I thanked her, profusely. Forget moving bodies, this is what real friends were for.

She laughed when I told her this. "Just remember that you owe me," she said. Trust me, I wasn't about to forget. You don't forget people helping you out of a crisis or two.

I admit, I still had hope of finding some way of reversing the process. Faint hope. I suppose I should have contacted the Justice League, but I was afraid they'd try to talk me out of it. I'd heard Superman's speech, and I was afraid I'd be drafted for the war on Brainiac. Strength? Agility? Intuition? I'd gotten those. I can't say I had the mental shift needed to be a hero. Still, maybe there was hope for me in my new situation. Maybe I could live a normal life.

Then came my shift at the noodle bar. I won't say it was a complete catastrophe, but it was very unpleasant. To see the manager, a normally well tempered man by the name of Charlie, go pale was not a good start. It could have been worse though. He could have sent me home, and with what I spent on clothes, I now needed the money.

The other server, Mike, had a reaction completely on the other side. He thought it was completely cool, and was borderline envious. Before I could stop him, he snapped a picture of me. He at least promised not to put up my real name, or anything.

On the other hand, there was more then one family that refused to be served by a freak. I was polite about it, and traded Mike for his next table. Eventually, it got me a family with a kid (age: six or so) who noticed I had a tail, and I'm going to guess, wondered if it was real.

I could feel the phone about to ring, and I couldn't see this coming? There's no justice in my world.

I'm just lucky I wasn't carrying at the time. Having my tail pulled HURT! I let out a wail and turned, sharply. The kid, who didn't have the sense to let go, crashed his face into the side of table, then lost his seat completely.

The whole place went almost completely silent. The only noise was the kid crying. He may have taken a nasty tumble, but the only injury appeared to be a bruise on his face. I closed my eyes, counted to five. When I opened them, the father looked angry and the mother mortified. I departed to the kitchen to fill their order.

I never did get an apology from the kid, who appeared to be sulking the rest of the meal, but there was a healthy tip at the end of it.

Another man at the bar, with a saki glass in front of him, wanted to arm wrestle me. He was ignored at first. As the night went on, he became more insistent, and slightly more slurred. He finally made a grab at my upper arm that I saw coming. I let him, probably because he'd have fallen off the bar stool otherwise.

"C'mon," he pleaded with me.

The match had begun and was over so fast I didn't think anyone else had noticed. There was quite a lot of power in these arms, and yet I could control my strength so easily. I hadn't broken his bones. At least, I don't think I did.

Didn't matter, I got chewed out by Charlie anyway. Never mind the guy had borderline assaulted me. Granted, he wasn't going to be much of a threat, and he was drunk. I still maintain the easiest way to get the guy to leave me alone was to give him what he wanted. It worked. Next time I came out he was gone.

When I finally returned to my apartment, it was not quite midnight. I climbed the stairs to the second floor, put my hand on the building and froze. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something wrong.

The door was locked. I checked. Trust me, if the door was unlocked, I'd have run like I was in a bad horror movie.

I unlocked the door, pushed it open slowly, looking behind me. I could feel my fur standing on end. I couldn't even see anything off. I had no idea why I was feeling so nervous. I was on the verge of running like a mad woman.

I stood at the door frame, wondering if I'd left the lights on. I hadn't. My eyesight had become that good, I could see through the darkness almost as if it had been daytime. I stood there, frozen. About a minute or two, I did see movement. There was someone in the apartment. It wasn't Rachel. It was someone with a gun.

I did turn and run at that point. To the stairs, I will point out, not the elevator. There was a second thug, wearing combat fatigues, and holding a big scary pistol. Probably a Magnum.

"Bad kitty."


	3. Chapter 3

I froze.

I don't care how strong you are, or how quick you move. One bullet to the back of the chest is going to ruin your day pretty quickly.

And the rest of your days, what ever is left of them.

I put my hands up very slowly.

"What do you want?"

"You."

The answer was simple, and the tone was cool. He sounded professional, or at least how I'd imagined what a professional soldier would sound like.

"I think I found some, Captain!" came a voice from inside the apartment.

"Bring them out," the gunman said. "Then the rest of you come out too. Our job here is finished."  
Three men emerged, all wearing combat fatigues, as well as black cloth masks. They were all armed. The lead one had the pair of silvery metal pieces held out in a black gloved hand. He rotated them a bit. "Think one of them is still live,"

"That'll be an excellent payout," the captain said. "So long as you stay quiet, nobody has to get hurt," he told me.

I nodded.

We proceeded down the stairwell, with one of the thugs always half a flight above me. The minute I tried to run, I'd be shot, and these guys didn't look like they'd studied at the stormtrooper marksmanship academy.

"You're not going to keep the live one for yourself, Captain?" one of them men asked.

"And chance looking like her? I'd rather the big guy just cut me a check. Do a job, get paid for it. Simple. Effective. Besides, we are a team, and you can't get a cut of whatever it turns me into."

"We can drink to that," the grunt said, grinning.

When I reached the bottom, I was told to "Hold."

They'd a 5th man stationed outside the door. Even if I'd made it out I'd have had another gunman I didn't know about stationed to kill me.

"Why didn't you taser her?" the new one asked, sourly.

"So she'd scream?" the captain asked. "So we'd have to carry her? She came quietly enough." He smirked. "Good kitty."

I choked down my anger.

He pointed. "Get in the van."

The fifth man moved forward to a van, parked illegally in front of the apartment building. He opened the sliding side door, then motioned inside. "Get in, freak."

Freak.

I swallowed, believing my life forfeit if I disobeyed, and clambered in.

"Seat across from the door. Sit down. Strap yourself in. We wouldn't want you getting hurt, would we?"

Considerate jerk, wasn't he? I did as I was bidden, though, even buckling myself.

"You see," said the captain, smiling. "She could do her own heavy lifting." He pulled out a small black pistol looking device with a square barrel, and pointed it at me. "Now we can taser her."

He was right. I screamed. I kept screaming from the repeated shocks until I passed out.

I think I awoke for a short time wherever it was they brought me. It was still night time. I could hear garbled words, and my back went cold. I was lying... strapped to something. "Here's... I … payment... usual channels? Appreciated... coming to, Doc."

"I will sedate her."

I felt a needle prick. After a few more moments, my mind swam again.

* * *

When I awoke a second time, I was strapped to an examination table. I was less groggy then the first time I awoke. I was secured with metal cuffs on my arms and legs to a metal gurney.

"...technology is incredible. I have confirmed that the trace DNA left within the exobyte matches the subject almost perfectly. There is other data within I have not been able to map yet. From the reports I received from the agents in the field, the subjects have retained their own mind from before the transformation.

I forced myself to remain motionless, sneaking only a quick glance at the speaker. I could see he was an older gentleman, dressed in a white lab coat with brown slacks. He was facing away from me, speaking at a computer, though I couldn't see the monitor.

There was a pause, then he spoke again. "It's been a long day for me, Doctor. Have you begun to make progress on the Kryptonian?"

"About as much luck as I have extracting the powers from the two live ones, huh? One of the teams that reported in brought several live Exobytes; apparently found untouched in a forest preserve. Yes. I paid them. With the boss's bank account, I'm sure he can afford it. I'll send two of them to you directly and the rest up the ladder."

I know I've mentioned what Exobytes were, to get up to speed anyone who hadn't heard of them. At this point in the game, though, I had no idea what that word meant.

Another pause.

"I understand. Work will continue tomorrow, Sivana out."

I closed my eyes and lay motionless.

Squeakings and a sense of motion indicated I was being moved somewhere. I didn't dare open my eyes to see where. I could hear multiple footsteps along side. After a few minutes, I heard the smooth opening of an elevator door, I stopped for a moment. Then was wheeled for another five minutes.

In the end, I felt myself dumped to the floor. I lay in a heap. I heard a second thump beside me, then a groan.

"Will they be coming to, Doc?" a male voice asked.

"Not until morning," reported Dr. Sivana. "I should be back by then. I gave them enough tranquilizer to," he paused for a giggle. "Knock out a tiger!" After another few minutes, I heard a door open and close, and cautiously opened my eyes.

I was in a cell, somewhere. The only light in the room came from under the bottom of a wooden door of the far side of the greater room. I could hear a radio playing, and saw a security camera pointed at the door. Also in the cell was another young woman, dressed in t-shirt and jeans. She wasn't moving.

I remembered the words of Sivana, and turned her over onto her back. Her breathing was slow and methodical. I moved my fingers down her wrist, holding her arm in my hand, and searched for a pulse. I eventually found one. It seemed slow to me, but I had no idea what was appropriate.

I could feel my own heart beating quickly, once I thought about it. It wasn't a sensation I'd ever had before.

I steadied my breathing, and tried to focus on calming down. That worked better than I was expecting, I could actually feel my heart rate slowing down.

What I didn't expect was that I'd feel her heart slowing down at the same time. I was only vaguely aware my hand was still clutched to hers.

Give me a break. I'm never at my best when I first wake up.

I panicked anyway, swearing under my breath, my calmness evaporated. My heart rate sped up.

So did hers.

I recoiled, falling back on my back, and I managed to stifle my cry. There's no possible way that makes sense, is there? That I'd manage to influence her heart rate, her metabolism, with my own?

I was speaking as a person that forty eight hours ago (depending on how long ago I'd been out) did not have fur and a tail. I departed the physical universe I was familiar with some time ago. I had to sit back and think.

I had been out for some time, but not nearly as long as the doctor thought I would be. Had my body reacted to its own knockout poison?

I followed that line of thought to its conclusion, and rejected it as insane. As I did this, I looked around what little I could. The cell seemed to be a sturdy one, of steel bars and brick walls. The doctor mentioned a Kryptonian, but I was clearly not one. I tried to pull on the bars, and while I was clearly stronger than one's average human, I was not quite strong enough to bend a steel bar.

I decided that sanity had never been my strong suit. I put my hand on her arm again, felt for the pulse. It was there, still sped up. I closed my eyes, and focused not on my own heart rate, but on the heart rate of the woman in front of me.

It's one thing to think of I wanted to do, it was another to actually do it. If I could get the body to metabolize the sedation the way I apparently did, could I wake her up? Strengthen the heart rate: Did that mean to slow it down? Speed it up?

In the end, I settled for a moderate steady beat, the strong pulse echoed in my own heart. I could feel adrenaline pumping through my own veins.

Was I affecting that as well?

"C'mon," I murmured. "Wake up."

I should have known it would take a while. I lost track of time, though my concentration didn't waver. I kept on it for at least an hour, maybe longer.

The breathing became irregular first, and this scared me enough to back me off for a time. I didn't want to hurt her, of course. I decided that it might mean the brain was attempting to regain conscious control of the lungs, and returned to my position.

Her eyelids fluttered.

I involuntarily squeezed her wrist tightly.

"Ouch!" she said, her voice still rather groggy.

In a panic, I let go of her wrist, and clamped a large furry hand over her face. Her breathing cut off, her eyes flew open in a sudden panic. The scream was muffled, thankfully.

"Shhhh," I hissed. "Don't scream, and I'll let you up."

She nodded, and I removed my hand from her mouth; then I helped her sit up. "What are you?" she asked, staring at me. "A nurse from Dr. Who?"

I blinked at her. I had, of course, heard of Dr. Who. I had no idea what she meant by that, though.

She laughed, a nervous giggle. "Don't worry about it. Damn, my head's still so fuzzy."

"You were sedated by the doctor holding us prisoner. He ran some kind of experiments on us."

"How are we awake then?"

"I guess he miscalculated. I don't think I'm exactly human any more." I headed off the line of thinking. I wasn't quite ready to share how she woke up just yet. "What do you remember before waking up here?"

She stiffened. "Some sort of mercenary team. They had my son. They wanted me."

All right, that's some unwelcome news. "Did they say why?"

"I... I'm a meta now. I... I got stung by something two days ago."

And that's a familiar story. "Is your son safe?" I asked.

"Marc took him away, I told him not to try to help me... to make sure our son was safe." She was veering into hysterics.

"Then we need to make sure he's safe," I told her, and thought about it. "How did they find you, anyway? I can't say you look like someone who's suddenly become a hero."

"All he said was Craigslist," she replied.

"Seriously?" I asked, dumbstruck.

"I found you with Craigslist,' he told me. He was laughing as he said it."

I let that sink in, then turned to the bars.

"I don't suppose you received any kind of power that would let you disintegrate steel bars."

She looked at me in askance. "You couldn't bend them?"

I shook my head. "I tried."

She looked at me, looked at the bars, and shrank away. I looked at myself, still covered in fur, still with a tail. "Trust me, it can't be any worse then what happened to me."

"Yes, it could," her whisper was hoarse and barely audible.

Oops.

"These powers could only be used to hurt people."

Oh. Ohhhhh.

"To a certain extent," I said dryly, "these aren't the kind of people you can ward off with a strongly worded letter. They mean to, if not kill us, take these powers for their own use. Then they can use them to hurt other people." I paused. "So what can you do?"

"Change the temperature of something, I could literally cook someone alive."

"Or heat the bars enough for them to melt," I offered.

"Do you know the melting point of steel?" she asked me. I responded negative, but saw what she was getting at. "Air's a great insulator, but I think it'd still roast us."

I considered. "I remember a game I played once, where you had to hit something with flame, then frost, to make it brittle. How fast can you manipulate it?"

"I can't say I've exactly had a lot of practice at it," she replied, sounding like her she'd just removed all the heat from her voice.

"C'mon," I told her. "It's either that, or wait until the Doctor comes back for another round of needle pokes. I may look like a giant cat, but I don't think he has our interests at heart." Then I intentionally went for the sore spot. "Don't you want to make sure that your son is safe?"

That got it.

She stood, and didn't look at me. I began to feel uncomfortable bit as it did, indeed, become warm in the room. The metal began to glow a deep red, like the heating element on a toaster oven. Several seconds of this and I did begin to sweat. At least my hands weren't wet.

She grit her teeth, and the red glow vanished, the heat followed suit about a minute after. She repeated the process, three or four times, she then collapsed, looking exhausted.

I simply stared at the bars, and, once several minutes had passed and I assumed them to have taken on a normal temperature, grabbed one. It about shattered in my hand. This would have been all right except I now had several slivers full of metal in my hand. I changed tactics and kicked the lower remaining piece of the bar. This scattered the slivers of metal on the floor.

Probably not an improvement.

"Time to go, I think. By the way," I said, "What can I call you? A calormancer doesn't exactly roll off the tongue."

No. I'm not going to give you her real name, any more then I gave you my own. Both Stan Lee and Elastigirl would have my head.

"It'd be calorurge." She paused. "Why not just call me Calor?" she suggested.

It was a start. These broken bars were a start, and I didn't want to tell Calor, but I had more on my mind then just escaping.


	4. Chapter 4

I hadn't wanted to be a hero.

I know I've mentioned this before. But it hadn't changed. I still had no intention of joining the Justice League, of fighting Braniac and evil forces wherever they appear, yadda yadda, etc.

I suppose I could have gotten behind a rip roaring rampage of revenge. I was angry, but it was a cold blooded anger, and I wasn't a killer.

No matter what I looked like.

That's aside the point. There's a difference between wanting to go out looking for trouble, and what you do when trouble coming looking for you. In my case, trouble had found me. It then tasered me and locked me in a cell. Apparently by using Craigslist.

Butts were going to be liberally kicked in good measure, yes. But the good doctor had let slip something important. He had "Live Exobytes" and he considered them important. Important enough to pay out money to mercs for them.

Depriving him of his live hostages was one thing, but if I could also deprive him of these Exobytes, it'd be rubbing it in, wouldn't it? Consider that a target of opportunity.

At the moment, I had more important fish to fry. Like the perfectly ordinary wooden door in front of us.

"It could be trapped," Calor said. She'd gotten up, with my help, after a minute or two of recovery.

If I tried the handle, I'd show up on the candid camera. I nodded at it. "I don't think we're going to get much in the way of a subtle exit," I said evenly. "Are we ready to make a break for it?"

Calor's breathing was still labored, probably the aftereffects of whatever was used to drug us, coupled with the exertion of her metapowers. "How much time do you think we have before security shows up?"

"Minute or two at most," I replied.

She blew out one last breath, rubbed her face, and straightened. "All right," she told me. "I'm ready to run."

I tried the door. Locked. I backed up and kicked at the handle, and was rewarded with both the crunch of splintering wood, and the audible siren of an alarm.

About par for the course.

We were in a long hallway, brown doors akin to the one I'd just smashed were scattered along both walls. The only light came from florescent ceiling fixtures, no windows to be seen.

"I think we're underground," shouting to be heard over the klaxons ringing in my ears.

Calor nodded, then pointed to a sign hanging from the roof.

I choked down a laugh. A red emergency sign labeled "EXIT" quite clearly pointed to one of the brown doors down the hall. Sometimes, I guess, life gives you a break. We ran, the alarm still sounding. I was in the lead as we reached the door. I threw it open, took a quick glance at the stairs. I didn't see anyone. A large sign on the wall advertised "B3".

"3 Flights," I said. "Go!"

I considered how long I'd been in the elevator prior to being dumped. Where had I entered? I didn't think it was the ground floor, but we weren't in it that long. Maybe the second?

Another advantage of a metamorphosed body was apparently stamina. I reached the level marked with a G without even breathing hard. Calor wasn't so fortunate. She was gasping for air

I grimaced, I had pushed her hard Too hard. If my abilities worked the way I thought I did, I could give her the equivalent of an adrenaline shot. This would probably have effects I would be kicking myself about later. I helped her up the last half-flight, and went to the door.

Cracking the door, I saw a small number of armed guards all set up around the elevator and the stairwell.

Blast it. This was so not going to get an approved for all audiences rating from me.

Yes, on another day, Calor could probably heat their guns up enough that they couldn't actually fire them. This might require line of sight, could require us getting us shot full of holes. Not a good idea. Down wasn't an option, really. We'd be trapped eventually.

Up? Calor might not make it, but it was really the only alternative. She stared at me. "They're waiting for us to come out!" I told her. "We've got to keep moving."

More to the point, I kept moving. I also kept moving her, though she was clearly exhausted. The second floor landing beckoned, and I opened the door. This hallway was empty, and much wider than the basement one below. Abandoned office building, perhaps. Most importantly, there was a window at the end. It was closed.

For the moment.

"They're going to figure it out event..." I began. "Could this be where I woke up?" I finished, more than a little lamely. Shouts came from downstairs. Then I noticed camera pods on the walls.

So much for life's little breaks.

"Here they come," I told Calor, and helped her move, not quickly, down the hall. I paused briefly to throw open the doors as we went.

"What are you doing?" asked Calor between gasps.

"The lab were in," I told her, "I think our captor has something else in there that he doesn't want escaping.

"You are crazy! There are..."

"Trust me. I know," I said. I could hear them coming up the stairs behind us.

I finally found a room I thought I recognized, and shoved Calor in. I heard shots ring out behind me as I dove in.

"Sit," I instructed her. "Catch your breath. I think we're going to need your powers again."

Her face was ashen and her breathing labored, but she did not argue.

There was a computer in one corner, where Dr. Sivana had been conversing. There was all sorts of frightening looking contraptions in the center. Had they done something surgical too us? Would they have been about to?

Hell's bells. This nightmare fuel was high octane. I went tearing through the lab, opening cabinets and pulling out drawers, not knowing quite what I was looking for, hoping I would realize when I found it.

Precious seconds ticked by, but we weren't invaded, though I heard them setting up. A flash of inspiration hit me, they knew we were supers, but didn't know what our metahuman powers were. Were we capable of firing fiery blasts of red hot death? Could we take over their minds if they got too close? I'd bet a night's worth of tips that they had no idea.

"Get ready to blast the door if they so much as cast a shadow on it!" I shouted, still searching violently. Calor stared at me, clearly not understanding. I held my hands palms out, pointing at the door – about chest high. "Trust me," I hissed.

She turned, still collapsed in a sitting position, to face the door. I thought I heard the satisfying sound of people stumbling from outside, but was too focused on my search to verify.

Things are always in the last place you look, some part of me noted. Because then you're able to stop looking. I had found something, anyway. A large plastic bag, filled with smaller bags. Each of the smaller bags had a small metal cylinder identical (so far as I could tell) to the one I'd found when this whole thing started.

Made me wish I had a pocket to stuff them into.

I returned to Calor. Her breathing sounded like it had started to come under control, and her face had regained some of its color. I offered her a hand up, as well as the bag.

"What are those?" she asked quietly.

"Exobytes, the doctor called them." I looked out to the hallway. "Have you seen any of them?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Well, chalk one gambit up for the cat. You hold that."

"You have a plan?" she asked.

"I think so," I moved over to the side, trying to see if I could get a glimpse of the guards. The klaxons continued to sound. There they were, I could see at least two, maybe a few more.

"Calor," I whispered. "Move to your left. Can you see them?"

She slid to her left, staring down the hallway, and nodded. "They're waiting for us to come out."

"What are they holding?" I asked.

"Narrow... uh, barrel, right? Long? Rifle?"

I nodded. "**Metal** rifles."

"Oh," she said. Then winced. "I don't know if I have in me."

"If you don't, I think we're dead," I said.

She looked at me, I looked back. I put my hand on her shoulder. "I don't want to die like this. Not without trying, and not to these villains."

"You don't need to give me a pep talk," she said wearily. She took a deep breath, and focused again. As soon as I heard the cries of pain, of metal hitting the floor, I moved. I can't claim that I'd **ever** had martial arts training. My punches were not subtle. There was also some kind of muscle memory. Some part of me that knew how to hit things, knew how things should be hit. I can't claim to have consciously controlled it.

The instincts didn't help.

When one had the strength of a tiger, when one's opponents were sporting active blisters on their hands?

Didn't need much help.

I settled for knocking the wind out of them, and gave each attacker one clear blow to to chest. This body was **fast** when I needed to be. I guess I'd not yet tried to exert it. I'm not going to claim super speed, but certainly much faster than I was before.

When I had them down and groaning, I ran back to the lab where I'd left Calor. She was unconscious, I think she tucked the bag into her shirt, because I didn't see it anywhere. This time, I didn't want to take the time to try to coax her back to life. I simply lifted her bodily into the air, and made another dash toward the window.

I heard cries from behind me, I think more people were coming, but I didn't dare look to check. It took another half a minute to cover the full length of the corridor. The double paned glass reflected my own image in the dusty lamp light. I put Calor down gently and slammed the window with my shoulder.

Ye gods, that hurt. The window clearly was cracked, but not broken. I spun in place, and slammed my other shoulder into the glass. This time it broke.

Now both shoulders hurt.

I didn't see much choice, other than jumping, and I couldn't leave Calor.

This wasn't going to be fun. I picked her up, again. I could see the ground below me, steeled myself, and jumped.

I hoped it was grass I saw below me.

Thank the powers I guess right.

Again I surprised my self, by landing on my feet, despite my load. Yeah, I know. I should be expecting things like this by now, right?

Let's review. There's people with guns behind me; I don't have a clue where I am; I'm carrying an unconscious super. It's dark.

All I needed were some sunglasses.

Still, I could see fine, and I couldn't hang around here. It looked desolate and run down. It wasn't any part of Chicago that I recognized.

Gotham. Well, I suppose it figured.

In the wake of any noise, I headed towards lights. I could see them, in the distance. There were no cars on the street, and I had no idea what time it was.

I bring this up, as after a few minutes, my own adrenaline was beginning to fade. I was exhausted. I had to keep pushing, though. If I fell down, there was still a reasonable chance I could get caught.

I changed directions every block or two, always heading towards the brighter lights of true downtown Gotham. Always hoping that I'd run into someone, a police station, a kind driver with a cell phone.

A crescent moon beamed down on me, and all this time Calor didn't stir. I will admit to you that I was scared, I was afraid I'd done some kind of permanent damage.

In the end, my salvation was found in the way of a gas station. I don't care if it said Stuckey's. It was a bright light of hope. It was open.

Granted, I think I terrified the owner. It took a few minutes for me to convince him that I did not want to rob the place, and just wanted to use the phone. I suppose most people approach a gas station on foot sometime in the middle of the night do not want to wait for the cops to arrive.

The two members of the Gotham City Police Department who answered the 911 call looked as tired as I felt. They were practically relieved as I told them the essentials of my story from when I woke up in the lab of...wherever it was (though I left out the Exobytes, now contained in an opaque bag from the gas station). The ambulance arrived arrived about two minutes later.

The hospital, I admit, was a site for sore eyes. Gotham General had been rebuilt from the ground up not too long ago, from donations from Wayne Charities and generous contributions from Star Labs. I'm sure you remember the story.

It was clean, it was warm, and it was friendly. I passed out in a seat while Calor was taken for examination.

When I awoke, an older, white haired gentleman in a brown trench coat was sitting next to me. It took me a moment to remember where I was.

"I hope I didn't wake you," he said, his voice gruff but polite.

"I don't know," I said. "I didn't really mean to fall asleep." I looked across the way. "How is she?" I asked, nodding at the door.

The man smiled, "Tired, exhausted, and starving. She's on an I.V."

I realized I was famished as well. I had no idea how long it had been since I'd eaten. As if reading my mind, a chocolate bar appeared in the man's hand. "If you've been in the same condition, you must be starving too."

Heaven. I thanked him, and tore into it ravenously. He just grinned and promised me some regular food was on the way up. Even heroes cannot live on chocolate alone.

"I'm," I paused. Like I could have a secret identity anyway, and he was wearing a badge. "Rachel," I introduced myself.

"Jim Gordon," he replied. Even I'd heard of Commissioner Jim Gordon. As big a hero as I'd ever heard of, considering what he and his family had been through. He'd endured so much. Here he was, sitting with me as if he was just another guy.

Incredible.

Wonders had not ceased yet. Gordon glanced over his shoulder and nodded. Another, smaller figure stepped from just beyond my line of sight. Robin.

To be honest, I'll admit that I was more impressed with Gordon.

"You told the beat cops that you had to absolutely get in touch with the Justice League," Gordon told me. "The best I could do at short notice."

I told them, then, I told them everything. From my transformation, to being kidnapped, to our escape. I gave the exobytes to Robin. I didn't want them. He took them in a gloved hand and promised that they'd get someone to look at them.

The next time awoke, again not realizing I'd fallen asleep, Sheri was there. I'd been missing a full day and a half, and my apartment had been ransacked, evidence enough to get a missing persons report.

I giggled when she told me how much trouble she had with the description.

Calor was doing better, awake under her own power this time around. We exchanged contact information. Even more than me, she was adamant about never using her powers again. She was somewhat distressed that anyone other than me know about her; but admitted that Commissioner Gordon and the JLA would be the least worrisome.

I got home at last, and yes, my apartment was ransacked. There wasn't much apartment, though, and it didn't take that long to clean up, with help.

The highlight was the E-Mail I got from Batman. Yes, I know. I got an E-mail from Batman.

Yes. Batman has E-Mail.

From: Batman AT JLA DOT org (No. It didn't really look like that. Should confuse any spam bots, though)

To: Withheld (Like I'm telling you.)

Thanks for the heads up. Oracle has traced the VOIP conversation back to a hospital in Metropolis, linked to Lex Luthor. Investigation pending. Once that is concluded, someone will be by for a full debriefing.

-Batman

You do not want to spam this E-Mail address.

Yay?


	5. Chapter 5

How, exactly, does one get ready for a visit by the most premier group of superheroes on the planet?

I'd even taken the time to sleep on the idea. It was about noon before I woke up, granted, I wasn't completely sure what time I'd gone to sleep, or even to bed. Slept soundly, granted. Upon waking, I double checked my E-Mail.

Yep. Still had an E-Mail from Batman. Still couldn't really believe it.

I cleaned up as much as I could from my apartment being ransacked. Got a call from Sheri, checking to make sure I was okay

Called my job, checking I was still employed (I was – and due in tonight), and basically waited.

...and waited.

You've heard about watched kettles never boiling right? I passed the time messing around on the computer, hoping to have some forewarning before any guests actually arrived.

Time kept on slipping.

Nobody showed by the time I locked up and headed to work. It was part letdown, and part relief.

The Noodle Bar was more crowded then it was on my previous shift, yet it was more sane. While I got some polite questions about my "Condition", nobody demanded alternate tables, no one asked me to show off.

Did get my tail pulled again. That still hurt.

A kindly looking gentleman in a blue business suit and a thick pair of glasses pushed up his hat to look at me as I yelped. He tugged at my sleeve as I passed, my mood fouled.

I froze, took a deep breath, and counted to three. I had a smile on my face and turned back to him. "Sorry about that," I said, "it was quite painful."

"I was going to ask if you were all right," he admitted.

I threw a quick, guilty, glance over my shoulder at the child who'd yanked it. He was very carefully avoiding looking at me.

I sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine," I told him. I restrained myself from telling him what I really thought about him. No sense in causing a commotion.

He pressed me, "Don't you think that families should have a greater hold on their kids?"

"He's a child," I responded. "Tip first, complain backstage," I said, forcing myself to keep smiling.

The man grinned and relented. The rest of the night passed mercifully without incident.

I'll admit to being on edge as I approached my apartment. I even circled around it, checking for running vehicles. Thankfully, I spotted nothing out of the ordinary, and went upstairs.

I had an E-Mail. Well, all right. I had several. Mostly spam and Facebook reminders. To be honest, I really didn't care who needed what kind of foal. Frontiersville did not require strategy, it was therefore not a game, but a waste of time. Sheri had beaten my weekly score in Bejeweled Blitz. Normally, taunting would have ensued. She was laying off, though I admit it made an impressive video.

Sorry. I'm rambling.

From: Superman AT JLA DOT org

To: (Withheld)

If it is all right with you, I'd like to meet you to discuss what happened both with you – and my cousin. Would 1 PM seem reasonable? If so, where would you like to meet?

-S

It carried the Superman shield.

Hundreds of heroes and villains, maybe thousands now after the event. Superman was coming to talk to me?

What the hell had I gotten into?

I sent an affirmative reply back, and gave him the address of my apartment. It'd be all right. Most of the others in the apartment building worked standard office shifts. If any did notice, maybe it'd get me a little respect.

It's not like the Joker was coming to call, in any event. And I'm not going to say no to the most powerful man on the planet.

The next morning, I gave the apartment a look around. My on and off cleaning over the last thirty six fours had left my apartment presentable, if not actually clean. I was certainly not able to focus on anything in the time

It was about a quarter to, and I couldn't stand it. I'd about everything to kill time that I could think of. Did I dare go downstairs and miss a call, did I risk looking like an overeager fangirl?

Back to Zuma. (I'm starting to sound like a Popcap shill, I suppose. I'll deal. They're fun games.)

After a few rounds, I had to resist a familiar urge, so I could answer the phone after it started ringing. The voice on the other end was something I'd only heard on radio and TV. It was deep, confident, and powerful.

I buzzed him in.

My nerves went into overdrive.

I moved to the couch. A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. That never fails to annoy me."It's open!" I called.

It was the first time I'd seen any member of the Justice League up close, and it was the arguable leader. The Man of Steel opened my door, and walked into my apartment. I kept my mouth firmly closed, or my jaw would have hit the floor.

Remember how I said the artists renditions of certain superheroines were exaggerated? Superman – not so much.

"You would be Rachel?" he asked politely.

"Y... yes," I stammered. So suave.

His smile was kind. "I'm Superman."

I swallowed. "Mr. Superman?" I offered. "Can I get you something to drink? Juice? Soda? Something uh..." My voice cut out. Was I really just going to offer the Man of Steel alcohol?

"Coffee, or water would be fine."

I didn't drink coffee, so I got two cups of water, handed one over, and retreated to my couch. "How can I help you, sir?" I asked. I could feel my tail twitching uncomfortably.

"As I understand it, I have you to thank for helping my cousin from Dr. Psycho," he said, his smile did not fade.

The blank look on my face expressed my confusion.

"You told Robin and Commissioner Gordon about a conversation you overheard from Dr. Sinava. He was talking with someone experimenting on a Kryptonian."

Oh. Right.

"That was my cousin, known as Supergirl. With your information, heroes in Metropolis were able to rescue her from Lex's researchers, led by Dr. Psycho," His tone was even and crisp.

"I certainly appreciate the in person gratitude, Mr. Superman," I said, cautiously. "But that can't be the only reason you're here."

He nodded. "I've come to ask for your help."

I choked.

"For all of the abilities in the Justice League, the paradigm has changed."  
I don't think I could have taken that word seriously coming from the mouth of anyone else.

"You've watched the news over the last few days, haven't you? While Lex Prime may have had good intentions," he let his doubt hang for a moment, "the reality is that there are thousands of new metas out there. Many of them have joined the Society, even more are out to cause destruction for their own gain, not to mention Brainiac. The Justice League needs as many people as are willing to stand in the way of evil, to fight back."

I winced as he continued. "You've had a personal encounter with this in Sinava's care. Others were held by Dr. Psycho. Perhaps more then ever, the world needs heroes. You were able to rise above the ones who held you captive."

This wasn't desperation – at least I didn't think it was, maybe more of a preemption. He genuinely thought I'd be a good fit.

I stood. "I don't think I want to be a superhero," I said, my voice a stammer. "I don't like to hurt people. There are times they deserve it, of course, but I that doesn't mean that I want to do it constantly." I turned to the window, staring out at the world, unwilling to look at him.

He nodded. "None of us do. Trust me on that."

I brushed the fur that covered my face. "If I make enemies," I said, "A simple uniform change and a mask isn't going to hide my identity to the world."  
Superman's voice turned soft. "Nothing says you would have to be on the proverbial front lines, Rachel. Though there are people who would put you there, like it or not." He was referring to people(?) like Brainiac, at least I hope he was. I know he didn't mean it as a threat.

I turned my head to face him, his eyes were lowered, and his face grave. "This is a war though. People get hurt in war, what if you could help them?"

I blinked. I hadn't been on the ball this whole conversation. "What?"

"You told Robin how you thought you manipulated the metabolism and adrenaline levels of Calor. If it's true, how much could you vary it?" His next two sentences hit me like sledgehammers.

"What else could you manipulate?"

"Don't you want to know?"

Did I? I turned back to the window, staring out into my town.

Was this a path of casual heroing I could follow? Or was it a path down to madness?

He was right, there was a war going on. Was it something that I could assist with?

Would it just get me killed?

Could I ask myself any more rambling questions?

The answer to his second question was "Yes". I'd manipulated Calor's body by accident. Without some experimentation, I might find some other ability, and it might kill someone. I didn't really want that on my conscience.

"IF, and I do mean if, I say yes, what's the next step?" I asked.

"The watchtower," he said.

"What?" I asked.

"The watchtower," he repeated, and held out his hand., palm upward.

I took it, and my world vanished.


	6. Chapter 6

Apparently, there's a term for it. "First Arrival Sickness" had happened to more experienced heroes than me.

I can't say I made much of a first impression, other than on the opaque obsidian like substance that decorated the landing area.

"I wouldn't feel too badly," someone said, laughing. "You are not the first one to have that reaction the first time you teleport, you will not be the last." I wasn't able to focus on who said it, though it was not my host, I was sure of that.

When I finally was able to focus on my surroundings, I was on my hands and knees, my lunch deposited on the ground in front of me. I almost retched again. I sat up, or tried too. I was still dizzy. "Take your time," I heard Superman say. "I'll get someone to clean that up for you."

I stood, wincing. "I'm, well, not OK. I think I'm passable now," I looked at the Man of Steel. One eyebrow was raised, though his face still looked impassive. I could tell he was trying to avoid a grin. It probably wouldn't have been good for his image.

"If you're feeling up to it, I'll show you around."

The Watchtower was big.

Really big.

I thought it was a good walk down to the village green, but that was just peanuts to the Watchtower.

Hyperbole aside, it probably was the size of a small village. There was the Hall of Justice, which looked like nothing more than a open glass conference room, complete with a table straight from the King Arthur mythos. There were probably room for a good twenty to thirty knights around that table.

I mean heroes.

In various spots, there were a few symbols. I recognized the golden eagle of Wonder Woman, Superman's "S" shield, and the black bat of Batman. There were a few others I didn't recognize.

There was Hydroponics... sorry, the Aquacultural area. All sorts of plant life abounded, some I recognized, most I didn't. Some didn't look like anything I'd ever seen on Earth. I found out later that my perceptions were accurate. Plantlife had been brought here from all over the cosmos, Mars (in its heyday, however long ago that was) in particular, was well represented.

There was the Monitor Womb.

No. I'm not transliterating some accent, that's actually what Superman called it.

It was a bevvy of monitors and control panels. I was told that the Martian Manhunter was the primary resident, responsible for any number of crisis spots that could occur around the globe. At the moment, he was mostly concerned with threats from "The Society" and Brainiac. He admitted to me that Brainiac was the most important, that "The Society" was against them too, but might take the fight too far.

You know, guys trying to steal a couple of million and maybe terrorize a few cities versus Robot who wanted to catalog and then destroy the world?

I agreed with his priorities.

There was a mess hall, of course, there were even a couple of different chefs who'd volunteered (or perhaps were well compensated – I didn't ask) to be up in the watchtower. I was told there was a bit of a rotation, or something. To be honest, I wasn't much in the mood for talking about food at the moment.

After the mess hall, we went to "The Kitchen".

His joke, not mine.

"The Kitchen", or the War Room as it was known officially, was the training area for league members. There was a hard light projector room, where scenarios could be constructed and practiced. I saw a set of official times for some training course or other, and was told by my instructor that various situations that the league had encountered previously had been set up as official courses in the kitchen. There was also a weight room filled with the usual exercise machines, treadmills, etc.

I didn't ask to see any records on those.

Finally, I was led to the infirmary, heroing being a dangerous business at all. A handful of the beds were occupied. One of them by someone I recognized, at least, there was no one else she could have been.

I turned to Superman. "That's your cousin?" I asked.

He nodded, though his face was neutral, "That's Supergirl. She's still feeling sick from Dr. Psycho's experiment," He left it at that, either unable or unwilling to elaborate further.

That's when I realized the difference between here and a hospital. There were no doctors, no medics. There was someone watching over the patients, but all they did was keep them comfortable.

It probably should have clicked in my mind then, why I'd attracted the attention of the higher powers of the League. Apparently, I wasn't just sick to my stomach today, I was oblivious too.

"How long has she been like that?" I asked, watching her roll in the bed.

"About twenty four hours. That's a long time for a Kryptonian to be sick," He glanced above her.

The infirmary was one of the few rooms in the watchtower that actually looked out onto space. I could even see the sun. While the beds could be enclosed, Supergirl's was not. I looked at Superman blankly. "If you're concerned about her, why not take her to WayneTech, or..." I paused, searching for the right company, "Metropolis's Star Labs."

I heard coughing. Supergirl's eyes had flown open. "No! No needles!" she cried out.

I stared. I know she was younger than her cousin, but most people got over their fear of needles when they were young.

"She still has nightmares about it. The last time she got badly injured," Superman explained, "she was taken to Star Labs. A rogue scientist took samples of her genetic material and cloned her."

I blinked.

"Powergirl was the result. I've been hesitant to take her back after that. Supergirl, when she's awake, is vehement about it."

"I'm vehement about what?" she asked. She was struggling to sit up. My head was swimming. I couldn't believe this was information he was just sharing.

"Not wanting to go to Star Labs," he replied.

Supergirl gave a visible shudder, pressing back into the infirmary bed. She coughed again, then sat up. It was not effortless. "Dr. Psycho had me in a red sunlight cage, and I think he took some of my blood," she said. "He may have injected me with something, too."

"Why are you telling me all this?" I finally asked, after a few seconds pause.

Superman actually stammered for a moment. His cousin sighed, and looked at me square. "He thinks I'm poisoned, and thinks you could help me get over it.

What.

He took a deep breath. Or it sounded like a deep breath. For a human, it would have been a deep breath, all right?

"According to the report Robin filed, you believed you were able to manipulate the metabolism of Calor's body."

I nodded blankly. Hey! Like I said, I was oblivious. It took it until then to click for me. My eyes widened. "You called me up here to help her?" I asked, mortified.

"Healing is a rare gift," Supergirl explained. "A lot of people are capable of causing destruction in various ways. Being able to punch through a brick wall, creating lasers that can melt steel. A lot of people can protect, much the same way. Being able to heal, though, that's impressive. Raven has magic than can do it, but it's empathetic."

"Raven? She literally can take someone's wounds?"

They both nodded. I followed the logic. "But a poison that could slow down a Kryptonian," I began, then stopped, unsure of the conclusion.

"Could have no effect on a human," Superman finished, "Or it could kill them."

Right.

"So," I asked, "What do you want me to do?"

"The same thing you did with Calor," Supergirl said, though her voice was shaky. "If it was a poison, I want it to pass through my system without any further damage."

It was odd, to hear both of these Kryptonians sound just a bit frightened. Of course, sickness might be new to them. It's not like they probably got common Earth colds. We develop an immune system because our race has encountered viruses for so long. A genetically engineered virus was scary enough. The nightmare fuel went premium if you had never been sick before.

With all of that said, my own fears bubbled to the surface. I wasn't even sure I'd had any effect on Calor. I expressed as much.

"Calor had an unnatural amount of adrenalin in her system, Rachel. Especially considering your story. The rest of her condition was consistent with it," Superman said.

I was guilt trapped. I wanted to help, but was scared too.

What if I caused some kind of debilitating injury?

She was willing to risk it, I guess, trusting to my instinct and good intent.

Well, intent I had.

It was time to see if I had the ability.

I breathed deep to focus myself. "Can you hold out your arm?" I asked.

Supergirl complied.

I reached out my hand, gently taking her wrist, searching for a pulse.

I'd found it easy on Calor, but due to... maybe the pressure, maybe the alien anatomy of Supergirl, I simply couldn't find it.

"You do have a heart, right?" I asked. My own skipped a beat as I realized the insult. "That came out wrong."

Supergirl giggled at some joke I didn't get.

Superman put his hand on mine.

For a moment, he moved his hand, and I could feel Supergirl's heartbeat.

I could also feel Superman's.

This shouldn't have been possible.

In the next second I could see it all.

How they were connected via blood.

How theywere connectedto me,just byproximity.

/

Blackness. Sweet soothing blackness.

When I woke up, I'd traded places with my patient. I was the one laying in the bed, with Supergirl and Superman sitting over me.

"You're always so irrational when your cousin gets involved, Kal."  
"It was the best I could come up with," Superman began.

"You could have given her time. It was most likely a simple cold." The voice was flat, emotionless.

"Batman," Supergirl said plaintively.

"It's true the other way as well," he said in the same flat tone.

I opened my eyes, emitting a loud groan. I looked around, and about fainted dead away again. Not only was I surrounded by Superman and Supergirl, who was standing upright and looking much better, but there was the guardian of Gotham himself.

The Batman.

Supergirl turned, looking at me. "Are you all right? How are you feeling?" I was asked.

"Like I should subscribe to Shintoism," I said, flashing back to the memory. "A bit dazed, perhaps." I collapsed back onto the pillow behind me. "I'm exhausted," I admitted. "What on God's green Earth did I just do?"

"I don't know," Superman admitted. "It was like there was a wave of energy between us, connecting us."

"I feel better," his cousin added, "finally."

"I'm glad," I told her, then yawned.

"You should rest," Batman said, though his voice didn't change.

"Yeah, I think so," I closed my eyes.

"We'll get you something to eat when you get up again," Superman said, smiling.


	7. Chapter 7

I was on an IV system when I awoke the second time. I could hear someone moving behind me. "She's awoken," came the flat voice. "Her blood seems to have returned to near human levels."

"What?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.

"When you went under the second time," Batman explained, coming into my line of sight, "We attached that IV to you. Your adrenaline levels were off the charts, though falling. My hypothesis is that it is some sort of innate defense from the exobyte you absorbed. If you think you're in a hostile situation, your body's adrenaline level kicks up beyond normal human limits, and continues even if you fall unconscious. A natural defense, probably why the sedative didn't work as well as Sivana thought it would have."

It made sense, I supposed. As much as anything had in the past seventy two hours. "How inhuman am I?" I asked. That came out wrong. Again. I didn't feel as groggy as I'd had when I'd woken up before, but I wasn't acting like it.

"Not as inhuman as you might think," Batman responded.

He said it. Honest about that. He meant me, not himself.

"Approximately ninety two percent human DNA, with about five percent matching feline – tiger, naturally. Thanagarian?" he mused, to himself.

I was over my head again.

"Let me get the IV out," said a kindly female voice from behind me. I craned my neck, and met Supergirl's eyes. "I've brought up something simple and American: burger and fries."

She helped me sit up while Batman nodded at me. "I'm going to get some research done," He told her, giving me a single nod, and departing behind me.

"Feeling better?" she asked. Her tone was light and cheerful. She almost sounded like a valley girl, now that she was feeling healthy.

I nodded, tearing into the burger. It was good, maybe not the best burger I'd ever had, but extremely good, or maybe I was just starving. For the second time this week, I didn't know how long I'd been out. This was becoming an uncomfortable habit. At least this time it was around people who wanted to be allies, not enemies.

"So," I said once the burger was finished, "Now what?

"That's up to you," she paused, looking at me directly in the eyes. It made me uncomfortable, her eyes were such a deep piercing blue. They were not quite human, which goes to show, I guess. "We could take you home – by shuttle, I mean. If you'd rather learn more about your powers, though, we'd like to help you."

I sighed. I guess I did. If I blacked out like I did earlier, say when I was driving... I don't have to finish that thought. "Yeah, I'm in. I still don't think I'm any good at a fight, but I don't dare any more surprises."

"Voluntarily or not, Ms. Rachel, I think you've crossed the line where surprises are to be expected. So to speak, anyway."

I gave a sad, nervous giggle."That's not very appealing. I didn't ask for this," I told her. I buried my head in my hands, thinking of Calor. "None of us did."

She smiled, and there was understanding and sorrow in it. I frowned. "You too?" I asked her.

She nodded to me, relating to me how she was kidnapped by the villain Darkside, how it took her cousin, Batman, Wonder Woman, and Big Barda (who I'd never heard of) to rescue her. Then he went for round two in the home of... well. She wouldn't tell me where.

"I had wanted to live life as an ordinary human, forsake my abilities, my powers. How could I when I saw what needed to be done, what could be done," She paused. "That was kind of lame, wasn't it?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No, it made perfect sense. I still don't know about combat. If these abilities I've found myself with can help, however, and I can learn to control them. Dr. Scrachansniff, psychatrist to the stars; and Rachel, medic to the Justice League."

"It's got a ring to it!" Supergirl said, laughing. She sobered after a moment or two. "There's one other thing. It's an offer I really think you should take up..."

* * *

"It was certainly more fun then anything else I had done. Granted, that's not saying much. I didn't watch anything on the way down. At least I didn't get sick again."

Sheri laughed. At me, probably. I was used to it. "You said you had something for me?" I asked her.

"Actually, yes," she told me.

I grimaced, sure it was some kind of costume. Sheri was enjoying this whole superhero thing much more than I was. I wasn't quite sure if she was into the entire idea, or if she was just enjoying it happening to someone else.

She pulled out a cloth loop from her bag. I took it, and examined it. "A belt?" I asked.

She nodded. "It's a bit of trickery I stumbled across when researching werewolf movies. The tail comes out under the belt and above the pants; with the right coloring, you can only tell they're two separate pieces of fabric if you look closely." Sheri gave me a look. "It'd have to be pretty close. I don't know that you want anyone looking at you that closely." She snickered.

"That can't be the only thing in that bag," I told her.

"Well, I did bring a handful of them," she told me, somewhat defensive.

I gave her a look. I didn't really have eyebrows any more, but I would have raised them if I could. I waited without saying anything.

Sheri took a deep breath and plunged her hand into her bag; pulling out a large loose fitting tunic. It really looked like something Ryu, from Street Fighter, would wear, albeit jet black. A "Gi", I think it was called. "It was either this or a sweater," she told me. "And I just can't see you wearing one of those form fitting sweaters with the heart neckline."

All right. That was actually pretty funny. I smiled and gave her a thumbs up. She pulled out matching pants. Then a second pair, this one was a dull orange and mote then a bit smaller. She held up her hand. "I'm not stupid, and I'm not a sidekick," she told me. "But unless you got a boyfriend at some point when I wasn't looking, I know what being your best friend means. Also, from what you'd told me, your powers are neither really offensive or defensive."

I blinked at her. "What?"

"Martial arts classes, for both of us. You've all ready been attacked once. Whether or not you're planning to go for round two, round two may come for you. There's a Tae Kwan Do shop... Dojo! I figure we should enroll."

I laughed. I couldn't help it. That two so disparate people could come to such a unifying conclusion was beyond funny to me. The confused expression on her face just made me laugh harder.

"What's so damned funny?" she asked me, clearly cross.

"Sup..." I struggled with my breath. "Supergirl said the same thing." I swallowed my laughter, choking a bit. "She said Princess Diana had offered to teach a martial arts class to any new heroine who would like it."

"Who?" Sheri asked. Her eyes grew to the size of saucers. "Wonder Woman?" she said awestruck. "With the Brainiac invasion and everything?"

I nodded. "How else are they going to have the reinforcements when everything goes to hell?" I asked. I had thought about the offer during the shuttle ride, and had come to that as a possible conclusion.

"How cynical is that?" Sheri asked me, aghast. Then she looked harder. "Oh."

I was clearly joking. Just because something had a cynical answer that made sense doesn't make it any less valid. "Supergirl said Batman thinks that it is a waste of time, that people who want training will find it." I grinned at Sheri. "I don't know. I think self defense is a pretty good idea. The people who aren't serious will fall off quick. Learning a fighting technique teaches discipline, and gives even people with potentially fatal a powers a way of incapacitating villains."

"The First Law," Sheri said, nodding.

"Commandment, Law, first rule of the Justice League. Though shalt not kill."

"You said heroines," She said suddenly. "Does one have to have touched by Vorlons to participate?"

Interestingly, I had expected a different question. The answer to that one had been yes. "I don't know," I told her. "I'll ask."

* * *

I had thought the use of heroines had been an idiosyncrasy, defaulting to the feminine form of a gendered word. (Don't blame me. English is a sexist language like that.) It was about 90% accurate, though. I think of the group of about twenty of us, there were two men. I heard the explanation later that most men assumed they knew how to fight, women assumed that they didn't.

Or maybe they just didn't want to be taught by a woman. It's possible.

I think Sheri had impressed our sensei with outright gumption in asking. She was standing beside me, both in our new Gis, looking like a matched set. Most of the others were wearing similar loose fitting clothing.

"The first think I'm going to do is teach you how to fall. I've spent a lot of my time being thrown into things. And throwing people into things." There was a nervous chuckle.

How can I put this. Wonder Woman was built. I don't mean she looked masculine, because she didn't. Her whole body radiated power and confidence. She had arms and legs that any other woman would kill for. And perhaps kill with.

That was a scary thought. I'd joked about the first law of the Justice League being Thou Shalt Not Kill, Wonder Woman did not subscribe to this. Whether this made her less idealistic than Batman (yeah. I know.), or more practical I wasn't sure. Maybe the time would come I would not able to take the proverbial third option...

My eyes widened as I felt a hand dig into my side.

"Your turn," Sheri hissed at me, pushing me forward.

Wait. What?

I felt Wonder Woman's movements before she actually moved, and I responded on an instinctual level that I did not consciously control. I felt my right foot hook around around her leg, and give it a pull.

I don't think my face showed this much horror when it had a Magnum stuck in front of it.

It was a cheap shot on Wonder Woman. Probably embarrassed her in front of a class that looked up at her.

I don't know how the hell I did it. It was a muscle memory, I swear it.

I swallowed, and reached down to help her up. She looked into my face, and accepted the hand up. "That's an important lesson too. Always be prepared." Her face was neutral, a mask. Never assume you know what's about to happen."

Again, I got a flash before it happened. This time, I forced myself to stay still, at least until I was in the air. I instinctively twisted, landing on my hands and feet on the matted floor.

"You're a bad example," Wonder Woman said, a smile cracking through the mask. "No relation to the Cheetah, are you?" Apparently, that question was rhetorical. She looked out to the group. "Has anyone else had instinctual feelings?" she asked.

There were a few hands in the air, which relieved me somewhat. Sheri still poked fun at me as I returned to the line.

The rest of the class went about as I expected. This was not a style based on throws and submissions (though as I understood it, there would be some, and some training with martial weapons), but on strikes: punches and kicks. How to get maximum power into our blows, and then to control that power. I don't think the style had a name, at least, not one I recognized. It struck me as possible that this was some Amazon style.

By the time we were done, about three hours, I was exhausted. Sweat matted my fur, though I didn't stink. Yet. The next meeting was to be held just over a week from now. Wonder Woman was going to rotate the dates so people who had real world responsibilities would be able to attend.

We returned as we arrived, by shuttle, the shuttleport being just outside Chicago; and we drove home. Sheri must have been as exhausted as I was, because we barely spoke a word on the way home.

The time would come when I would be grateful for these lessons. I suppose I had guessed that, but this would be sooner than I would have liked it.


	8. Chapter 8

It had gone on for a few weeks. I wasn't able to make every class. I still had to work, after all. I still made most of them. While the training certainly made me feel better, I think I liked the social aspect the most. It was the one place where I could be sure that nobody would give me any kind of harassment for my new appearance.

Granted, I was getting fewer stares then I used to at work, but it still felt as uncomfortable as ever to just go 'out'. I'd become rather insular in nature. Which is why, on one Saturday afternoon, I was surprised when I got my sixth sense feeling about the Telephone ringing.

"Hello?" I asked.

"It's Sheri," came the voice on the other end. "Come on down. We're going out."

I blinked. "What?" I asked her.

"You've been cooped up in that apartment for far too long," she told me.

"Come down, or I'm going to come up and force you to come down."

As much as I didn't want to come down, I didn't want to fight with her, I didn't argue with her. Hell, it might be fun to go out, somewhere. "All right," I told her. "Be right down." She met me in the lobby, and we walked out to the parking lot to her car. We piled into her car, and we took off. "Where are we going?" I asked.

"I figured some work and some pleasure," she told me. "We'll start with the gym, then go shopping."

I stared at her. "The gym?" I asked her, stunned. "Why there?"

"Why not?" Sheri shrugged. "Still need to exercise, right? Besides, how else am I going to get you out to meet people, bowling? Drinking?"

I didn't drink, I'd always been afraid of losing my self-control. Most sports leagues, recreational or not didn't allow supers to join up.

I really did not want to admit it, but she was right. I sighed. "Fine," I told her. "But I could ask you one favor?" I begged.

"What?"

"Let's go shopping first. I still don't have the hang of drying myself. Fur still tends to stink."

Sheri laughed at me.

* * *

We did go shopping first. I hadn't realized how self conscious I'd become, with Sheri pointing it out every time I flinched or pulled back instead of meeting people's eyes. "There's no reason to be ashamed," she told me. "So you look like a Thundercat. It's who you are now."

It made me feel better.

Kind of.

I resolved to work on it.

I can't claim to have intended to buy much when I was out. I probably bought too much anyway, I blame Sheri. I guess I hadn't been feeling that well, and being out did make me feel better. I know it probably sounds strange, being given strange powers beyond the ken of mortals? I can't help feeling that my life had ended, though. It was depressing though, my life taking such a dramatic left turn.

Sheri, bless her heart, tried to cheer me up. Though she did try to give me the power was meant to be used line as well. I was getting enough of it from my 'classmates' from the martial arts lessons we were receiving on the Watchtower. She even quoted the book of Matthew. Or at least, she quoted Butcher quoting Matthew, using the parable of the talents.

I, apparently, have to get my pep talks second or third hand.

The gym was a medium sized affair in North Chicago, a bit north of where I lived. They had the usual weight machines, a few courts for racquetball and/or tennis, and a rubber track around the outside. There were nicer gyms closer to the big city, but we were on a budget.

Sheri was a member all ready, and spotted a guest pass for me. We started with a run on treadmills. I'd never been much for speed, and that hadn't changed much. Endurance was another story, though. I felt like I could keep going forever.

I was stronger on the machines. I've mentioned this before. I tried not to make a big deal of it, though. The gym had been empty. This made it all the more obvious when a small group of men came in, eyes lit on us, and advanced upon us.

"Well, look what we have here. A freak," The one in the lead said, a blond haired blue eyed young man.

Freak. There was that word again. I hated it. I had heard it a few times while working. I wasn't a freak. I still felt human. I may no longer have looked it, but I still felt human. I looked up to meet his eyes, my temper rising. Sheri put her hand on my shoulder as I lowered the weights with my legs (none to gently, I'm afraid. They crashed with a rather loud bang).

"This ain't no place for a hero, Kitty Cat," he said with a sneer. "Get up."

I rose to my feet. "We don't want trouble," I said, my breath catching. "We'll go. We'll go." Next to me, I could hear Sheri taking deep calming breaths. I tried to follow her lead. The young man sneered at me.

I thought I had gotten these other instincts under control. Apparently, if I was caught by sufficient surprise, they could still take over. I caught the punching hand in a single paw and yanked. He tumbled to his face, narrowly avoiding bashing his head on the leg press machine I'd just gotten up from.

I prepared myself for an epic beat down.

To my surprise, the gang did not all pile on at this point. One of the people in the back, an African American, helped him up. He muttered something while doing so, and passed him a syringe, filled with an ugly greenish yellow substance. He stepped back, looked at me, and smirked. "The Lewis Street Bangers aren't going to back down from any wannabe hero."

I let out a yelp of surprise as the blond man gritted his teeth, and stabbed himself in the wrist. The effect was almost cartoon like in speed. His entire physique bulged and expanded grotesquely, making him look like a professional wrestler. He gave a savage snarl as the change enveloped him.

"Holy cow," I heard Sheri whisper. "Titan!"

Titan was some kind of super serum developed by Joker a few years ago. There was more to it, after effects of some kind, or so I'd heard rumors of. The details were kind of obscure, like most things coming from Gotham. The practical upshot was that I was quickly staring at the chest of a certified monster.

He pulled back an absolutely ginormous arm and threw a punch that could have broken though a wall. I dove for the floor. It was time to fish or cut bait. "Sheri!" I yelled. "Get out of here!" while I scrambled to my feet. The other gang bangers were moving to circle me, ignoring my friend.

Sheri ignored me, too. At a critical moment, as the titan-infused punk took another swipe at me, she shoved a gang banger in the back right into the path of the monstrosity. His cuffing took out his posse member, who screamed in pain, collapsing on the floor.

I rolled away from where the gang banger flew, before getting to my feet. How to quickly raise from a prone position was the third thing Wonder Woman had taught us, after how to take a fall and throw a punch.

It was at his point, with Sheri and I facing off with about four hostiles each, one of mine being the Titan-infused giant, that I began to wonder: What Would Wonder Woman Do?

She, of course, would be confident in her overwhelming force and be the aggressor in this situation. Not helpful. What would Minsc do? Throw a hamster at the giant to go for the eyes, I suppose. Also not practical. So, what should I do?

I started with the basics, as in, don't get clobbered. I ran, none too proudly, giving another banger a neat NFL style shoulder block as I went by, trying to get out of being hemmed in. I could feel the adrenaline flowing, like energy in the air. I took just a moment to focus it, cutting everyone of but Sheri. It wouldn't keep anyone else from feeling their own oats, but at least I wouldn't give them a boost.

I caught a glance up, Sheri was holding her own, having backed herself into a corner. The reason people are so dangerous backed into a corner is that there's no way to get behind them. These bangers had no real fighting training, and apparently only expecting one of us to fight back. Sheri was teaching them otherwise. The training we'd had was high intensity, and often left us with everything short of broken bones.

I ducked instinctively as a twenty pound barbell went flying over my head. If it had taken another one one of his gang friends out, I would have tempted to say that the titan was on our side. No such luck this time. Them diving away from the spinning bar, though, did give me a chance to pounce.

I did so, burying both of my paw like fists into the chest of one of our foes. I could feel his breath come up short, and he did not rise immediately afterward. The titan took another swipe at me, and this one connected. My back burned in agony, as I stumbled forward several steps. I don't think he broke my back, but a full on punch probably would have.

I fled before he could accomplish that. Sheri had managed to put down one of her attackers, but was sporting a nice new shiny black eye and puffy lips where they had begun to work her over. Time to support my friend. I barreled through two of the three still on her, slamming them both into the wall.

"Come on, Sheri! It's time to go!"

Sheri looked at me her eyes, especially the wounded one, shining with something I wasn't quite comfortable with. It wasn't battle lust or rage, but maybe Enjoyment? Pleasure? It was tough to tell, for I didn't have the time to look before I was forced to dodge again. The rest of the gang bangers had scattered.

That left us with a monster, and Sheri wanted a crack at it. It, however, was still focused on me. Maybe it was the Titan, making him an idiot. Or maybe he just wasn't that bright in the first place. Anything that single minded, I'd bet didn't feel pain. Exactly how was I supposed to defeat a thing like that?

The answer became, let Sheri do it, or at least try to. I took the role of bait, staying just out of angry elongated arms and powerful blows. Sheri became more aggressive, pounding away at the oversized back of our adversary. Even so, it did not appear that she was actually hurting it enough to draw its attention.

Of course, when it changed, it changed in a heartbeat. I didn't see it coming, nor did I feel it coming. He just turned around and slugged her. She flew through the air, smacking into the wall spread eagle, then falling to the floor.

Anger. Anger is a funny thing. People thing of Anger as a negative emotion, the Dark Side of the Force. I don't think that is. Jim Butcher wrote in White Knight that anger could be positive. He called it Passion, that it could bring down tyrants and butchers. There was nothing positive or negative about the anger I felt seeing my friend's body in a crumpled mess on the side of the gym. It was just an unfeeling, cold, unthinking, rage.

I wish I could remember the fight. I was standing after it, he wasn't. But it was a blur. Even now, when I look back on it, I have no conscious memories of the fight. The only actual memory I have of the next ten minutes was me, sitting over Sheri's battered body. I needed a name for this way I could put energy into living beings.

I'm babbling again, I'm sorry. Just thinking about it frightens me. To think I was capable of... that I almost...

Sheri was sitting up. If I hadn't... hadn't be able to help her, I don't think she would have survived. If I hadn't been there, I don't think she'd have ever been hurt in the first place.

I know for a fact I wasn't stronger than the titan maniac. I was faster, and my instincts were better. I almost strangled him to death.

I mentioned earlier that I was afraid of what would happen if I didn't have the chance to take the third option. This was my choice, at some point I became the aggressor. This wasn't making about making a choice, this was about losing control. And some young man almost lost his life because of it.

I swore it wouldn't happen again.


	9. Chapter 9

I wasn't arrested.

I think I wanted to be. I felt awful, that I had lost control.

For me, a nightmare come true.

"I don't think it was a bad thing," I heard one of the officers saying to Sheri. "I don't like to see anyone getting hurt..."

Yeah, neither did I, and I was the one doing the hurting.

Sheri walked over to me and tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to look at her. Her face was bruised, and I think her nose was out of place. I couldn't believe she was up and about. Maybe I had been wrong about how much damage she'd actually taken. I certainly wasn't the most intelligent person at the time. Her eyes were glowing, though. I don't mean ready to swell shut, I mean with genuine excitement.

"You enjoyed this, didn't you?" I snapped, more anger in my voice than I really intended.

Sheri took a step back from me. "They had it coming!" she said, defensively. "You heard the officer, they'd been harassing people in the neighborhood for days. Injured a few people that hadn't been able to defend themselves."

I hadn't heard that. I wasn't convinced it'd make a difference.

I looked at Sheri suspiciously. "Did you know someone who'd been attacked?" I asked her.

"No," she told me. There was a rather lengthy pause where neither of us said anything. "Yes," she admitted.

"You wanted me to get involved in this," this one was an accusation. I felt betrayed. She knew that I didn't want to get involved in heroics, and she seemed bound and determined to drag me in.

"I wanted **us** to get involved in this," she said, almost pleadingly. How could someone who had gotten so hurt still want to be part of something like this? "I think you would feel better if you knew that you could do something positive," she continued despite my thoughts.

"I can do something positive," I snarled, "I'm still a functioning member of society. Nothing says that just because I look like a freak, that I have to be a villain or a hero."

I could feel this weight – all these people who wanted my help. All these people who thought I was destined for something. All these...

Sheri slapped me. Not hard. Really more of a cuffing, but it was across the face, and it got my attention.

"Don't be like that. Stop wallowing in the woe is me attitude," she said. Now she was angry, or at least upset. "Don't give me that 'I just want to be normal attitude'," she continued. "I don't think it's you. When you were forced into helping, because you were outright taken as prisoner by some group of mercenaries..."

"Those were mercenaries!" I shouted, dimly aware that police were beginning to glance in my direction. "These were kids, Sheri. Kids!"  
"Young adults," she countered, also raising her voice. "Young adults, of college age, who were probably more capable of killing innocent victims than the mercs were. They were playing with the Titan formula. They're capable of making decisions too. Are you just going to wait until they hurt someone?"

"I don't want to get involved at all Sheri. This world wants heroes? It's got hundreds of them. Thousands now. What's me? One, more or less?"

"And just as many villains," Sheri said. "You've all ready seen that they're not going to wait for you to get involved.. Isn't that what it takes for evil to succeed?" she asked, snapping still more viciously. "Good people doing nothing?"

I took a step back from the person that I thought was my friend.

"You can help. I can help. I at least want to..."

"I think we're losing him!" came the shout from across the parking lot.

I felt my blood freeze. Sheri's head snapped behind her.

"All right. Then help with this," she hissed at me, and dragged me toward the ambulance.

I'll be honest, I hadn't seen it arrive. I hadn't seen the police car arrive either, if I was to be honest. I'm not even sure who even had called the police, though my money was on the receptionist.

The Emergency Medical Technicians were floundering over, not the one who'd been injected with titan, but one of the other ones. He'd been apparently been clobbered by... one of the pieces of exercise equipment, or something. Maybe the titan warped gang banger had plowed into him while I'd been strangling him.

He had been bleeding.

It sounds so ordinary. I'd never been freaked out at the sight of blood, but it's one thing to see a small amount of blood, and another to see someone that was sitting in a pool of them. He was on a stretcher, and they were hooking up to a heartbeat monitor, and probably a few other machines that I didn't know.

All his obvious wounds had been covered and bound. "What's wrong with him? I.. I can help him.." I stuttered.

The EMT stared at me.

"I swear," I choked. "What's wrong?"

"Internal bleeding," he told me. "He's lost too much blood. I don't know if he'll survive the trip into surgery."

This would be a fatality, and that kill would be on my hands. I swallowed, hard, an audible gulp. "I.. I can help him. Slow down the blood loss." I could hear it. The rapid pinging of the heart monitor.

I reached out my hand, taking a hold of him at the wrist.

We were all connected, right?

I took a deep calming breath.

Fly or Die. It wasn't me who would die, either. No matter how much I would have taken his place, that I felt responsible. I had to push this aside.

Focus. I had to focus.

I closed my eyes. Slow. I needed his heart rate to slow. To slow the blood loss. The pinging continued in my ears. It was slower, stronger. When I opened my eyes again, the connections I saw threatened to overwhelm me.

I swallowed. I had to stay in control. Losing control would probably kill the young man. One person. I just need to keep one person alive. "Drive," I said, trying to keep my breathing level. "Quickly. I don't know how long I can hold this." I closed my eyes again.

It was the damnedest thing. I could feel the others still around me. I don't mean in a physical sense. Its one thing to be, say, blindfolded and feel the presence of other people by their breathing and walking and such. This was something else. It was like feeling life, itself. The fifth element, the heart. It was an energy to me, a positive energy.

I realize exactly how cliché that sounds. I can't actually describe it any other way.

I could sense the others around me, the drivers, and the patient. (I distantly heard the rumble of the engines and the sound of the sirens). I could feel his energy fading, too.

I had done this subconsciously twice. Now I was trying to actively control it. I wished that I had more to go on than instincts. It was like mentally grasping at threads, trying to remember how I'd helped Supergirl. How I'd helped Sheri.

How I had to. Had to. Help this young man.

I wish I could tell you how to do it, how to instruct others how. I just can't. It was like feeding that energy as if it were a fire, give it something to burn, not allow it to go out. It makes no sense, even to me.

I was snapped back to reality this time around by the ambulance screeching to a stop. I opened my eyes, just a touch. I could still see them – the connections, I mean, like some kind of links between living things, they faded out as people got further away, or strengthened as they came closer. Like the EMTs rushing to our side of the ambulance to get the man into the trauma unit.

I wanted to run along with him, to continue to help, but I was exhausted. I was sweating so much I was matting my fur.

Surprisingly, perhaps, I didn't pass out after all this. (I know – I've done this particular trick longer before, but I just sat on the floor for several minutes, panting and trying to reclaim my breath.

Sheri showed up about five minutes later. It kind of surprised me, after the way were shouting at each other. She looked at me, concern showing on her face. "Did he make it?"

I guess that's what friends are for.

"He made it here," I told her. "Otherwise..." I closed my eyes. I'd done what I could, what I felt I had to do. I just didn't know if it was going to be enough.

Another five minutes, and the EMTs returned. I looked up at them, blankly.

"The surgeons are working on him, the prognosis seems good, thanks to you," one of them told me.

I shook my head. "He's in the mess, thanks to me."

"You have the duty to defend yourself," he said back to me, not angrily. "I've seen more then one person brought to the ER because of what people like this do. You should not feel bad because you protected yourself."

"Duty?" I asked, shocked.

"You have the right to liberty, pursuit of happiness. You have the duty to protect your own life. It's an extension of your obligation not to kill yourself. Not protecting yourself to the best of your ability is tantamount to suicide."

I was too tired to come up with anything snappy. When it came down to it, it made sense. Maybe my thinking was addled but, coming from an EMT of all things, it made sense.

"Philosophy major?" Sheri asked. I felt sure she was going to follow with a fast food joke.

"Minor," he replied.

I waited.

"Rachel?" Sheri asked me, dashing my hopes. "Ready to go home?"

I nodded.

I got an e-mail the next day. I had completed the trifecta.

From: Diana AT JLA DOT org

To: withheld  
CC: Sheri

I understand that you had an incident yesterday. You had to use the powers you were given by the exobytes to inflict harm on another person in defense of yourself. You feel, however, that you were unable to control your own power.

I would like to invite you, and Sheri, to a session in the kitchen. It will be simulations of previous situations prospective members of the Justice League found themselves in. It will be an opportunity for you to learn to control your skills in full combat situations.

I sighed. All right. It's what I needed. I could argue that she was solving the wrong problem, but Sheri clearly thought maybe proving that I could pull my punches would lead to me accepting that I could go furhter.

Fine. I'd give it a try, and if Sheri really wanted to be a hero, maybe I could give her a hand.


	10. Chapter 10

It was a little over a week later. Sheri and I were back on the watchtower. We were not there for a class. We were there because Wond.. I mean, Diana, had invited us to take part in an exercise. By invited, I mean, agreed to set up the exercise that we were about to do.

The 'Kitchen' itself appeared to be a large open area, as in football field large. Wonder Woman herself was there to set the scene, as it was.

"After we got your message, via Robin," Diana began, "Batman followed the computer trail to Metropolis. He found a previously empty wing of Metropolis United Hospital. A 'generous' donation of both money and manpower came from LexCorp to set it up for people who were having trouble getting adjusted to new metahuman powers."

Other than him being the owner of a big multinational corporation, I hadn't heard much about Lex Luthor. He had contemplated a Presidential run, but nothing had come of it. Since Metropolis was on the east coast, I hadn't paid a lot of attention.

Of course, Batman had told me the thugs that had kidnapped me had been working for Lex Luthor, so I came prespoiled. Sheri hadn't heard that, and mentioned as much.

"Lex is a brilliant man," Diana said. "But in the end, Lex works for Lex. He hates being second fiddle to anyone, and he especially hates being the second most powerful man in Metropolis."

I coughed.

"Exactly. They do not get along." we were told.

"So where does that put us?" I asked, as we were led back outside the 'Kitchen' proper.

"What happened outside the hospital is a bit chaotic. Lexcorp security forces fighting with patients they'd tortured into madness." Diana told me. "When you go back into the kitchen, you'll have just entered the new wing.

"Alright," Sheri said, dubiously. "What did you want us to do?" she asked.

"Find out what was going on," was Diana's answer.

While I didn't know how it got there, I knew how it ended. Sheri didn't know that much. I met Diana's eyes. "I remember Dr. Sivana had said something about a kryptonian, but didn't know what it meant."

Sheri swallowed. "What could we hope to do against something that could take down Superman?"

"Isn't that what you are here to find out?" Diana asked.

Sheri blushed. "I guess so."

"With the hard light constructs," Diana told us, "There is a risk of real physical injury. If at any point you've had enough, put your hands behind your heads. The operator will immediately cease the exercise. Of course," She set her hard eyes on us. this is considered a failure. I have high expectations for you."

I swallowed. And I was the one who'd volunteered ourselves.

"I'll be watching," she said, then put a hand to her ear and nodded. "The operator tells me he's ready. So, if you are, I'll head up to the observation area."

Sheri nodded to me. "I'll take the lead."

During our ride up to the Watchtower, we'd discussed combat strategy. Quite frankly, Sherri had taken to the actual skills that Diana taught us better than I did; even if I was the one with the so called superpowers.

She opened the door, and it was like we were actually in a hospital. I couldn't tell the difference. I had no idea the technology worked, but it did work. I guess that was the important part.

There was a guard on the inside, wielding what looked like some kind of night stick. He looked unsure of himself.

I could already feel my adrenaline rising. Over the past few weeks, I'd become very good at feeling, and controlling, the ebb and flow of things like adrenaline in my body. By extension, I was also assisting my partner's.

Still, we were not spoiling for a fight.

"What's going on out there?" I asked. "There's madness in the streets."

He gawked at me. "What?"

"There's people fighting out there. We barely got out of there in one piece," Sheri said, picking up on my lead. "Rachel just wanted to see what the doctors could tell her, with her looking like she does."

The guard nodded. "Sounds good, sounds good. I'll just see if I can't keep any of the madness from spilling inside." He walked to the door, opened it, and stepped outside.

"Too easy," mumbled Sheri.

I didn't answer her, but we headed deeper into the hospital. It was suspiciously empty; I would have thought there would have been receptionists, clinics. Something.

When we started poking in doors, we came across a few people dressed in white hospital gowns, and were promptly attacked by them.

Compared to the gang bangers we'd fought about a little over a week ago, this was a small skirmish. It was actually harder to pull our punches. We didn't really want to hurt them, they were clearly confused in the head. After just slapping them they seemed to realize that some was going wrong, and they went and huddled in the corner.

"We've detected Justice League transmissions," came a loudspeaker blared voice that tickled the back of my memory. "Take these two down!"

Initially they came one at time, and it wasn't until we found the prisoners that we had a group of guards. They looked like bacta tanks. There were people in those tanks, and they were floating in them. I could almost see the electricity in them. What were they doing with them?

You know what? It didn't matter. We were told this was the Metahuman wing. These were people who'd had the bad luck to get hit by a piece of metal falling from the sky.

They didn't deserve this.

Maybe Sheri had a point.

We had to take care of the people with guns and nightsticks first.

Let me rephrase, the people with guns first. We still still had flesh, guns would still ruin our day. Maybe they were some futuristic hard light constructs, but I was going to treat them like the real thing. It was the feline blood, I suspect, that let me react faster than anyone else in the room.

I quite literally pounced. Diana had taught us, people who relied on weapons were uncomfortable without them. Knock the gun from his hand, get it out of the fight. Part of this was hoping like heck that the gun didn't accidentally discharge. Guns were designed not to do that, but one never knew.

It didn't today, and I had the brief satisfaction of the guard staring wide eyed at me as I cocked my arm back as Diana demonstrated. This wasn't some kid in over his head. This was a fully grown man who knew exactly what his was doing. I let loose, driving my fist forward.

WHAM!

To my side Sheri had gone low when the defender had expected her to go high. Kreese may have been a jerk, but sweeping the leg against someone not trained in martial arts is a good way to put him doun the ground. Dropping an elbow a few seconds later was genuine encouragement for "not getting up again."

Two forms crumpled beneath repeated blows before the other two even knew what was hitting them. I took only a moment to make sure that neither was going to die on me before going to face the third and last opponent. I let out a roar.

That doesn't get the point out. I let out a primal scream that sounded like a roar, something that resonated somewhere deep within my being. The third member of Lex's team froze, wide eyed and terrified.

And an easy target for Sheri to bring down. She grabbed him at the shoulders, and knocked him to the ground. He may have been able to get up, but apparently thought better of it.

Wise choice.

We spent the next minute or two dismantling all the carefully prepared equipment. By dismantling, I mean breaking glass and detaching wires. We got the people removed from whatever these containment devices were. They were... intact. Without exception they were confused about their surroundings, but able to stand on their own two feet. After hauling the comatose guards the way we entered, we helped the prisoners barricade the door.

In keeping with the exercise, I tapped the communicator Diana had given me. I know she'd been watching, but I advised her in what we'd done so far anyway, and asked her for medical backup for the civilian metas. She affirmed our choices, and gave us clearance to proceed.

After a short corridor, we emerged in a similarly large room. Outside of a couple of boxes though, this one was empty.

"If you want something done right," the voice complained. I'd heard it before. Could not remember where. "You've got to do it yourself, and there just isn't enough of me to go around." He cackled, ending in a cough. "Time to change that. Time for a little more me."

The room was filled with... small people in business suits. His black hair was unkempt and his eyes were rather unsettling, and they rushed us. As Sheri and I defended ourselves, they began to, well, 'pop'. Pop was putting it mildly. Exploded was probably more accurate, as they gave off a wave of heat and force that knocked me down briefly.

Sheri was in danger of getting overwhelmed, I could see blisters from the heat starting to form on her face. My fur looked burned in place, though I didn't feel it myself. (I know. A small good thing, I wasn't going to complain). I wanted to focus on Life's Connections, as I'd taken to calling that ability; but I managed to do something else entirely.

If the others were odd, this one was unable to be explained. It was almost a natural energy, I could feel it. Sheri could feel it. I could see the blisters fading.

Go me?

Right. Still a number of this little mob left. We simply went back to back and let the come to us. They had numbers, but even two on one their actual physical power was laughable. Without this healing ability I had, though, I'm not sure how we would have managed the small explosions. Which means I'm not sure whoever did this the first time around did do it. Maybe they were simply tougher, or had some ability to make them impervious to fire. Or maybe Diana was making it harder because there were two of us.

It didn't matter much, I supposed.

We endured the onslaught, and kept pushing on. There was another small wave of Lexcorp thugs. We handled this group the same way we did the last one, and kept running. They had to be trying to keep us away from something important.

When we made it to the far end of the corridor, we were rudely interrupted by a more solid looking version of the small man we fought the army of just a few minutes earlier.

"What are you doing with these people?" Rachel demanded, still in a ready to strike pose.

"You think you are so high and mighty don't you?" he sneered. "You think you can stand in judgment over me? What gives you the right? Try to walk a mile in MY shoes!"

As we watched, three new images solidified (mostly) in front of us. Wonder Woman, Supergirl, and Power Girl. "One day," he told us. "All of these heroines will be my slaves," he gave a high pitched chuckle. "Now, their very image will be your death!"

The guy had the mind of a teenager. Maybe Power Girl was accurate – I'd only heard of her once, and never seen her. But the other two looked like they did in fan art. Particularly bad fan art. Those I had met personally. They were constructs. Constructs of constructs, I guessed.

Sheri took a step back, away from me. The Supergirl and Powergirl floated towards of us, as Wonder Woman charged us. "Hadron!" Sheri yelled. "Hadron on Supergirl!"

She had a better grip on tactics then I did. I backed up, separating from my partner. The images took the bait, getting in between us. Normally, I would argue that separating is the last thing you want to do in a fight, but this was actually a plan. Sheri had come up with code words for specific tactics to employ. See how genre savvy she was?

Hadron meant that we'd step back, then both charge the same target. It worked, certainly better than if it had been actually be the Kryptonian instead of just a projection of her. We both lowered our shoulders and charged. Supergirl was a bit shorter than I was, but she was hovering a bit off the ground, which meant that I put my shoulder into her chest. At the same time, Sheri put her shoulder into her back. On anyone else, this would at the very least knocked the wind out of them, and might have even done some serious damage.

On this illusion (hard light... forget it), it simply shattered. Now it was two on two. The Power Girl construct had reached me, and struck me at the face. It hurt, a lot. I reeled back, swaying on my feet. I could feel my heart racing. I narrowly ducked a second punch. Wonder Woman had closed to Sheri, and was pummeling with short fast jabs.

Sheri was trying to endure them, and block them, but the construct was moving faster. I could see the pain on my friends face. I was going to have to give Power Girl a free shot at the back, but I was going to the defense of my friend.

She took that free shot, and it stung like hell. I had to focus though, if I didn't, we were going to down. I grabbed on to the Wonder Woman construct's shoulders. I met Sheri's eyes. There was nothing wrong with her reactions, and she fire hard strikes at the construct. It shattered on the third hit, just like the first one had.

With nothing left to really hold onto, I slipped to the ground, landing on my hands and legs. I could feel the presence behind me, I rolled away just as Power Girl tried to stomp me into submission. I could hear Sheri breathing hard. Boosted adrenaline or not, we didn't have the endurance to keep this up forever.

Still, the Power Girl construct was focusing on me, and I had to keep moving, trying to regain my feet. Ranged attack. I needed some kind of ranged attack. So did Sheri. My friend charged forward, fully intent on saving my hide. She grabbed onto the constructs arm as it tried to pound my head in the floor.

I raised to one knee, and launched an uppercut into the construct's chin. It shattered around us. I settled on my feet. My concentration was wavering, I was so tired, I could feel my fur, damp with my sweat.

We didn't appear to be done.

"No! I will not surrender to..."

"No," Sheri whispered, "Not more..." There were more. More of the mini-mob.

"They must be illusions!" I told her, "We've got to find the original."

My fur prickled, was that... "I think I see him!" I pointed, "There!"

Rachel didn't even look. She trusted me. She ran towards the image I indicated. She jumped one of the images, kicking out at the one I thought was the real McCoy.

The others vanished.

"How... how did you resist my illusions?" he asked, falling, then flailing, on his back.

"Cat instinct," I replied, wearily.

Sheri was kind. She let me lay on the floor a good thirty seconds before she reached down to try to pull me bodily to my feet. "Come on, we better secure him."

We found something that resembled... well. It was probably more a large ball of packing twine then rope.

No matter how much Sheri tried to convince me I was playing with a ball of string.

We found Supergirl up a small flight of stairs, probably directly above where we had our final confrontation. She looked sickly, trapped in a sphere of red light. Sheri and I tore the room apart until we found the console. When we did, she dropped to the floor, looked up at us.

"Thanks. Dr. Psycho poisoned me with Kryptonite, then locked me in that red sunlight cage. I think he might have even taken some of my blood," Supergirl said, coughing as she stood next to us.

"We'll get you out of here," I promised her. I was exhausted, but we were going to get her out.

"Thanks. I need to go talk to Kal- I mean, Superman."  
Perhaps it was for the intellectual exercise, but we made it all the way out before the simulation was ended.

Both Diana and, to my surprise, Supergirl was waiting for us when we got out.

"We passed?" Sheri asked, her voice quivering with a combination of exhaustion and excitement. She'd not met Supergirl before.

Diana nodded, and smiled her rare smile. "You did. You did well. I'll show you to the showers."

I winced.

"Then you can come upstairs, watch what happened for yourselves, and maybe answer a few questions."


	11. Chapter 11

We showered. I had my fur blown dry. Small favors. I was going to need an industrial sized blow dryer for my apartment.

We met Diana and Supergirl up in the Kitchen's control room. We watched what we did. We were complemented by not fighting the first guard, who probably hadn't known any better.

"Is he really like that?" I asked eventually, watching myself on screen. "Dr. Psycho, I mean?"

"Worse," Diana told me. "Misogynistic and completely insecure. We didn't have you do the hide and seek he made the actual investigator play to try to catch him."

I stared at her in amazement. I could hear Sheri choke on her laughter. "Hide and seek?" I spluttered.

"She's not kidding," Supergirl put in, grinning. "I read the report."

I exchanged a bemused glance with Sheri.

When we witnessed the fight against the images, Diana paused the playback for a moment. "Hadron?" she asked me. Supergirl giggled. She apparently got the joke.

"It's a supercolider," Sheri said. She listed off a few other code words we'd established ahead of time. Diana looked vaguely impressed. Maybe. For about a moment.

When we got to the end, Diana nodded. "Hardly perfect, but good form."

"And you know the rest," Supergirl said. "Whatever Dr. Psycho gave to me didn't simply pass through the system. That's where you came in."

We sat back for a bit, not saying anything. I broke the silence after a few seconds. "I would like to thank you for letting us do that." I paused, and sneaked a glance at Sheri. She was still staring ath the screen."What about that other question I asked you in the mail?" I asked.

Supergirl glanced at Diana in confusion, "What other question was that?"

"It's why I wanted you up here, Kara," Diana told me. She placed a small bag on the table. Inside the bag was a small metal object, of the same type I'd retrieved from Dr. Sinava's lab.

"What is it?" Sheri asked.

"It's an exobyte, Sheri," Diana responded. "This is what Luthor prime seeded in the atmosphere above our world."

Sheri figured out the implication almost instantaneously. Her eyes went straight past saucer sized and on to moon sized. I think I could even see stars in them. I poked her. She glared at me for a few moments before realizing that the other two women were watching her, and only one of them was smiling.

She looked terribly guilty for a moment before regaining her composure. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, blushing.

There was another minute or two of silence. "Why bring it here, though?" she asked. I could hear the gears in her head turning. "Not to tease..." she broke the thought off, flushing further.

I went to her rescue. "Because you want it. I didn't, I didn't really get a choice. The call knew where I live, but you've jumped at it." I thought about that a moment. "It's not that you want it, you need it. I'm not sure what happened, but you feel like you're required to do something."  
Wonder Woman nodded, "Rachel has told us that you've pushed her, trying to be a hero – sidekick – with her. You were pushing her forward, clearly wanting to be part of it. That part is not in doubt. What I need to know is why. Excitement? Glory?"

"A jedi craves not these things," Supergirl quipped.  
Sheri looked at Diana meeting her straight in the eye. "He works not just for glory, and he does it not for gain; but because he knows that others will be spared a greater pain."

We blinked for a second.

"That sounds like a quote," Wonder Woman told her.

Sheri nodded. "It came from a computer game. I don't remember where I found it. It's stuck with me since then." She paused and took a deep breath.

"And they ask, 'What is a Hero?' though the answer's very clear. He's the one who faces danger when the darkness hovers near."

"He will face the fiercest foe when another needs his aid. He will dare to defy Death even though he is afraid. He works not just for glory and he does it not for gain, But because he knows that others will be spared a greater pain."

"He won't always follow orders, for he dares to answer, 'Why?' And unless he likes the reason,  
he refuses to comply. He will brave the battle boldly even though he may not win. He will face his fate unflinching, for he is a Paladin."

"And they ask 'What is a Hero?' though the answer's evident, He's the one who faces death  
knowing that his life's well spent."

This time, Diana looked really impressed. Even Supergirl looked thoughtful for a moment. "I should tell Kal that one," she mused. "He'd love it."

I watched Diana detach the golden lasso from her belt. "It is a nice poem," she admitted. "But I need to know if its the truth. I'm not going to compel you," she noted, "But if you want to be the one to use the exobyte, this is the cost."

Sheri looked at Diana, looked the lasso, and closed her eyes for a moment. Then, with her mind made up, she took the lasso, holding a loop of in her hands."

Diana smiled, a warm encouraging thing, and spoke. "Your friend has shown great respect for you. It is good to see that the trust isn't misplaced."

"What do you want to know?" asked Sheri.

"Why do you want to be a hero?" Diana asked.

"I saw what happened when the exobytes fell," Sheri told her. "The world is changing, and I need to help people. I know. We can't all be heroes, someone has to clap as they walk by. Superman told Rachel that they wanted as many people as possible to help fight Brainiac. I need to be one of them."

"Need?" Diana asked. "Why do you need to be one of them?"

"My uncle, Steven, works for the Daily Planet. He covers the Metropolis Metros. Nobody's seen him since the day Brainiac bottled the Daily Planet. My aunt has gone almost suicidal." She glanced at me, apologetic. "They need symbols of hope. As many as there can be."

I had no idea she'd lost family in the Brainiac attack. I mean, I knew both Chicago and Gotham had suffered some, but that had happened even before the rain of exobytes. I'd almost forgotten. It had been so far away. I felt guilty, now.

Diana nodded. "Do you have any questions for me?"

Apparently, there was something about the lasso that made Sheri answer that question. I'd like to think that she'd have the tact to not say something like this.

"Why me?" she asked. "What would make me special? What makes Rachel special that you're willing to give her... and me... this kind of attention?"

Supergirl shook her head. "There are hundreds, if not thousands of newly empowered people," she told us. "It isn't just you. Oracle, Diana, Kal... Superman, even Batman are trying to get them all organized, away from breaking each other. It's not that you're special," she wrinkled her nose and tried again. "You are special, I mean, but not unique." She grimaced. "You know what I mean! We are doing this for a lot of people. You, Sheri, have shown more initiative than most. We don't have forever. Batman believes the exobytes are unstable, and will eventually break down."

"You say that you need it. We're ready to have you, if you are sure," Diana added.

"I am," Sheri said.

Wonder Woman held the bag containing the exobyte open in front of her. I could hear my friend swallow, see her tense up. Sheri reached in, taking it between her fingers.

Her eyes grew wide, and she fell to her knees. Her skin began to cover itself with a purple crystal, it looked almost like an impure diamond. She fell over, unconscious. After another moment, the crystal receded.

I'll concede. I was envious. But here we'd go again. She'd have to find out what she was capable of.

I've taken the code name Nidalee. Yes, it's from League of Legends – I'm not very original when it comes to names. I don't really take a hands on approach. I do work for the Justice League, but mainly as public relations. I've finished my associates, and am working toward my Bachelors.

I make showings in both Chicago and Gotham from time to time, and if the Justice League needs me, I'm there to help. I may not be the one standing in the gap, that's more likely to be Sh- Garnet. I'll support who ever does to the best of my abilities, so that everyone can come home to help more.

Sheri's code name is Garnet. She's much more visible, and we work together as much as we can.

Drafted by an exobyte.

Recruited by the Justice League.

I am Nidalee.

I am still Rachel.

Hope begins with me.

Other adventures? Well, there was the time Batman asked me to track Selena Kyle for a mission only I was suited for. Another time, maybe.

The beginning.


End file.
